


These Kings Of Men

by ObjectPermanence



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Coming Out, Cutting, Dom/sub, Drug Use, Homophobia, M/M, Multi, Non-Consensual Drug Use, attempted date rape, bondmates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-05
Updated: 2013-12-28
Packaged: 2017-12-07 10:42:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 25,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/747606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ObjectPermanence/pseuds/ObjectPermanence
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Sometimes, when two people love each other, it's really unfortunate."</p><p>Enjolras never understood why the world was the way it was, why the cuts appeared on his arms even though he'd never brought a razor to his wrist, or why the subs were separated from the doms at school. Not until he met him, a boy with wild dark curls, and scars along his wrists that matched his own.<br/>This fic is not abandoned, just on hiatus until after finals</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Apollo and Hyacinth

Enjolras never understood why there were two parts in every school, the section where he went to class with his friends, and the section filled with everyone else. The teachers said that he and his classmates were "Doms", a special group of people who were given the honor of being destined for greatness and dominance. Everyone else were "Subs", or submissive, they were destined to be working class men and women. Apparently every Dom had a "Bondmate", or a Sub that they were linked with and would eventually reproduce with if possible. Bondmates had a special connection, a sort of emotional and physical mirror. Occasionally if one was hurt the other would experience the same wound.

When he was 13 it happened for the first time, Enjolras woke up screaming as a few long lines were carved into his forearms, blood staining his sheets. His parents had told him it was his bondmate, and there was nothing he could do about it. The cutting had left a large number of scars along his wrists and arms, and it was still happening. About once a week he would be writing or doing homework when another would open up seemingly at random. There was one occasion when he passed out during a lecture, and after being rushed to the hospital he was diagnosed with a near fatal blood alcohol level. 

He'd given up a long time ago on trying to find whoever this person was, deciding that there was no need to know. Enjolras had never had time for a relationship and thought nothing of the "bond". When Courfeyrac had found his bondmate, Jehan, it had only confirmed his suspicions that a relationship would get in the way of his work. 

The only sort of distraction that he allowed himself was the weekly get together at the bar with all of his friends on Friday night. So when he, Combeferre, and Bahorel pulled up to the usual place they were shocked to see that it had been shut down. "Well, what now?" Combeferre asked, looking at the other two, gripping the steering wheel tightly.

"We could go to the bar near my apartment." Bahorel offered, pulling out his phone, "I'll call the others."

Enjolras shrugged in agreement, "What ever floats your boat."

"Alright, Green Fairy it is." Combeferre backed out of the parking lot as Bahorel hastily explained the change in plans to Courfeyrac over the phone.

"Shit." Enjolras muttered, feeling the familiar sting of the ghost blade dragging across the skin of his wrist. Pulling up his sleeve, revealing a multitude of systematically made scars, he pressed a finger over the new wound. "Hey Combeferre, do you have a band-aid?" It had been 10 years since it had first happened, and he was used to the pain, it was the blood staining his clothes that he hated.

"Sure, I'll get them out of the trunk when we park. They're cutting again?" The guide worriedly asked, looking at Enjolras in the mirror, "Enjolras, you have to find them or it's only going to keep happening."

He shook his head, "How would my contact with whoever this is stop it from happening? There’s no good reason to find them."

"So sex doesn't count as a good reason?" Bahorel cocked an eyebrow, snickering under his breath.

"There is no romantic or sexual connection between me and this person, it's simply biology." Enjolras stated firmly, he'd never bought into the bondmate hysteria, thinking the whole thing only a fairytale to explain the biological connection.

Combeferre frowned, "What about Courfeyrac and Jehan? Is there no romantic connection between them?"

"There is now that they've met, but there wasn't one before. Its all bullshit." He explained casually, finger still pressed to his arm, "Well, we're here so can I have the band-aid now?"

Combeferre sighed, parking the car. "Fine, but you really are stubborn Enjolras. Just wait, one day you'll meet someone and you'll know instantly it's them. You're going to find your bondmate and then you'll understand." He had met Eponine a few months earlier, and they'd been dating ever since. "Here you are." He produced a box of band-aids from the trunk.

"I'm sure I will." Enjolras responded sarcastically, watching Bahorel race over to the other car that had arrived with the rest of their friends, "Felix the Cat, classy Combeferre."

"What? Don't hate the classics!" The Guide chuckled lightly as his leader pressed a black and white bandage, adorned with the cartoon cat's face, to his cut.

"ENJY!" Jehan screamed, racing across the parking lot, nearly tripping over a speed bump, as he threw his arms around the blonde's neck.

"Jehan!" He choked out, barley able to breath with the Poet's arms pressing into his windpipe. Courfeyrac, Joly, Bossuet, Bahorel and Feuilly were making their way over to him and Combeferre. "Hey guys!" Jehan released him, scampering off lean against Courfeyrac.

"Hey Enj, we're going inside. You coming?" Feuilly jabbed his thumb towards the door to the bar.

The blonde nodded, "It's getting dark out, lets go." The group began to walk towards the entrance, talking, laughing, and pushing all the way. 

A large green neon sign was hung precariously above the door, in scripty letters it read  _The Green Fairy_ , no doubt a reference to the drink it was famous for. The outline of a woman's body was painted in green on the door, the door handle located in between her thighs. "Classy." Bahorel laughed as Enjolras opened the door. Inside, the bar was bathed in a slightly green light, a few tables pushed up against the wall. Stools lined the bar, only one or two were occupied. The group shuffled over to one of the booths in the corner. 

"Pints all around!" Courfeyrac told the barmaid when everyone had sat down, Jehan nestled under his arm. The group cheered loudly, clapping and slapping him on the back. "So, Combeferre." The Center let a wicked grin form on his lips, "Tell us about Eponine!"

The guide blushed slightly, "She's great, amazing in everyway." He said bashfully, looking down as the waitress returned with the drinks.

"Everyway?" Bahorel asked suggestively, "Care to elaborate?" Courfeyrac wiggled his eyebrows suggestivley. 

Combeferre calmly took a drink from his cup, "No, I would not."

"He got laid!" Bossuet announced loudly, throwing his arms up in the air as the group clapped and gave the bespectacled man congratulations as he blushed a deep red.

Enjolras chuckled into his pint, taking a long drink. He was happy for Combeferre, but still disagreed with the social order of the world, Doms, like him and his friends, always coming out on top with the Subs, like Eponine and Jehan, always being treated like second-class citizens. He was vocal about this idea, and most of his friends agreed to an extent, but none were as passionate about the topic as he was. 

The group continued to laugh and converse amongst themselves for a while, unaware of the dark haired boy who had wandered inside and was seated at the bar, nursing a bottle of whiskey. None of them noticed him staring at Enjolras with a sort of wonder and disbelief in his eyes.

-ooo-

Grantaire sat on the edge of his bathtub, sighing deeply, the razor still clutched tightly in his hand. A thin line of dark red blood was running down his pale arm, dripping softly onto his pants. "Fuck." He muttered, a sense of relief flooding over him as the familiar feeling of the razor's sting began to fade. He looked up the ceiling, black curls falling on his neck as he breathed shakily. He'd been cutting for about 10 years, it was the only way he knew how to deal with the constant inner pain he felt, other than drinking. He was a sub who'd never felt any sort of affection, leaving him cynical and broken. A child who is taught they are nothing without a dom, begins believe it when no one cares for them, leaving them alone in the world.

His parents had died when he was young, leaving him the foster system with verbally abusive parents. At school he was worthless because he was a sub who hadn't met his bondmate. Most bondmates were untied by the end of High School, and he'd managed to graduate without ever having a real friend. The cynic had never experienced attraction to anyone, and didn't know if he capable of loving someone. Grantaire didn't believe anything, let alone the idea that his other half was somewhere out in the world, looking for him. Why would anyone want such a pathetic excuse for a person for a bondmate?

Pulling his sweatshirt sleeve over the scars on his arms he rose slowly, and headed towards the door, grabbing his wallet on the way out. He raised his hood to protect against the spring wind, he walked towards the bar he went to every night. The familiar neon green sign glowed brightly in the darkness, standing out against the dark sky. Grantaire reached for the handle, and walked inside. 

In the corner a group of boys were laughing loudly and drinking. He turned away from them, and sat down at the bar, ordering his usual whiskey. Running a hand over the stubble on his chin he glanced back at the group, the bottle clutched in his other hand. They seemed to be about his age, mostly doms with a single sub snuggled up against one of them. He snorted quietly, taking a drink, their laughter seemed to fill the usually dismal bar with a sort of optimistic light that touched everything in it's wake except the cynic's heart. In his mind there was no one who was actually that happy, it was all a lie.

Grantaire  took a long drink as he scanned their faces, on had glasses, one short black hair with a mischievous smile, a workers cap on one. And then he felt the center of his universe shift to the boy on the end of the bench. He had shaggy blonde hair and bright blue eyes, a pint in one hand as he laughed along with his friends.

Grantaire felt his stomach tighten, he felt like the wind had been knocked out of him. For years he'd denied the idea that he could love anyone, but looking at this boy everything seemed to change. In a moment he felt his entire world shift, he was meant to be close to this boy. He was meant to kneel before and be used by this god amongst men. "Apollo." He breathed, the bottle slipping from his hand and smashing on the floor, the sound violently jerking him from his daydreaming.

His Apollo looked up immediately, blazing blue eyes connecting with his own pale blue ones. "I-uh-" He stuttered as the group stared silently at him. "Um-um-I-well-um-" The barmaid had rushed over, and was sweeping up the bits of glass strewn over the floor. "Sorry, I just-ah-" He trailed off as the blonde stood, and began to walk towards the bar. "Um-" He squeaked, shrinking back as the taller, imposing boy towered over him.

"What?" His tone was commanding, and the scent of whiskey could be faintly detected on his breath. "Why are you just staring at us?"

Grantaire shrunk farther back against the bar, trying to look small. "I didn't mean to- I just- I- um-" His eyes flicked over the boy's body, taking in his broad shoulders and strong arms. Every cell in his body was telling him to kiss this god as quickly as possible, but he still had some sanity. "I'm sorry." He managed to say softly, looking at his shoes, which were slightly damp from the bottle he'd dropped.

The rest of the group had resumed talking, ignoring the two of them. "A beer." The blonde said to the barmaid, who had finished cleaning up the remains of Grantaire's bottle. "So, any reason you're here?" 

He feelt like his throat had closed up,  _Why is he talking to me? He's talking to me! Shit! What do I do?_   Grantaire tried to respond, but his words came out as a sort of half strangled guttural noise. He quickly cupped his hands over his hands, looking up at the boy in front of him. Swallowing he tried again, "N-nothing better to do."

"Hmmm." Apollo responded, taking a drink of his beer looking oddly composed next to Grantaire who is a pining, shaking mess, despite not even knowing his name. "Enjolras." He extended a hand that Grantaire took immediately, feeling Enjolras's soft palm against his rough one.

"Grantaire." He could barley focus on anything other than his lips, wrapped around the bottle as he took another drink. His hands were shaking at his sides, and he felt like he was going to faint.

Enjolras seemed to notice a moment or two later, "Hey are you sure you're okay?"

"Mmm hmm. I'm fine." He nodded, not convincing anyone due to the bead of sweat forming on his brow. "Can I get another whiskey?" He asked, desperate to calm his nerves. The barmaid pulled one out and placed it on the bar. "Thanks." He muttered, reaching out to take it, his sleeve riding up enough to reveal the scars on his wrist. Immediately self-conscience, he retreived the bottle and tried jam his arm in between his knees, but not before Enjolras darted out and grabbed his wrist, looking at the scars. "I-um." Grantaire started, trying to pull away, before he was cut off.

"Did you do this?" Enjolras said, his voice shaking slightly as he gripped his arm tightly, turning it slightly towards himself. Grantaire nodded slowly, ashamed that this beautiful boy had to know how broken he was. "Why?"

Grantaire fidgeted in his seat, looking at the blonde with shame filled eyes. "I'm sorry." He wasn't sure why he was apologizing, but it felt like the best thing he could do.

Enjolras paused for a moment, looking Grantaire in the eyes with a serious gaze. He released the cynic's wrist before pushing up his own sleeve to reveal identical scars. "Why?" He asked again more firmly.

Grantaire stared, his mouth falling open slightly, "I never thought..." The scars on this man's arms were completely identical to his own. He'd heard the stories of how wounds were sometimes mirrored on bondmates, everyone had. Grantaire was silent, still in shock. There was no way that this god was his bondmate, no way that he had a bondmate. Yet here was this boy with matching scars, that made Grantaire want to follow him around like a puppy, it was the only logical conclusion. But was Enjolras thinking the same thing? Or did he see the cynic as just another depressed youth, resorting to self-harm to dull the pain of living?

"So, don't do it again." Enjolras patted the table idly, "We've got a group that meets in the Cafe Musain Tuesday and Friday nights, you might like it. See ya around Grantaire." He rose without another word, took his beer, and walked back to his table.

Grantaire sat, watching him join his friends, a smile on his face. "Enjolras." He breathed softly, holding tightly onto his bottle, determined not to loose this one. This boy was clearly made for Grantaire, and he for him. But how could that be? Grantaire was just a cynical drunk, and Enjolras was the humanly incarnation of Apollo in this drunkards eyes. He was not worthy of such affection, and the idea of someone caring about him both frightened and filled him with an indescribable feeling of warmth. 

Grantaire didn't know how long he sat at the bar, but when his watch beeped, it was 2am. Looking up he saw the bar was deserted, save himself and the barmaid. Enjolras and his friends were gone. 

-ooo-

Enjolras slammed the door to his apartment behind him, and leaned against the wood, slipping down to the floor. He sighed, taking his face in his hands. "Shit." He was shaking, barley able to stand, forget trying to make it to his room on the other end of the apartment. How could it be that a random guy at a bar could challenge nearly everything he knew about himself in less than 10 minutes.

His entire life Enjolras had detested the happy Doms and Subs holding hands and kissing as they walked past, but now he thought he might understand. This boy, Grantaire, made him crave that, the feeling of belonging with another person. The whole domestic relationship was suddenly quite appealing to him.

When he'd heard the crash he'd assumed the barmaid had dropped something, but he looked up anyway, spotting Grantaire. When their eyes met he felt his heart leap, and something inside of him clicked. Life often felt like an imcomplete jigsaw puzzle, it seemed as if the most important piece had just clicked into place. And that piece was a boy with dark curly hair, bags under his pale blue eyes, a drinking problem, and scars along his wrists; an utterly broken soul. Everything made sense, he was Grantaire's and Grantaire was his.

The entire time they'd been talking all Enjolras had wanted to do was tug on Grantaire's dark curls while pressing him into a mattress and fucking him senseless. He was sure Grantaire would look beautiful splayed out, naked on his bed, moaning out his name as he came. Such thoughts scared Enjolras because he'd always opposed the natural order of Dom/Sub relationships, not understanding the primal urges that went along with a bondmate. Not understanding the feeling of wanting to dominate another human being. 

Shakily, he forced himself to stand and walk to his room. Stripping off his clothes, Enjolras slid into his bed, clad only in his boxers, but he couldn't sleep. All he could think about as he looked at the ceiling, was Grantaire sleeping next to him, cradled in his arms while he slept. He was nearly sure that the boy would curl into his embrace when they slept, his breath steady and comforting. The dark haired boy was all he could think about, and seemed to fill every corner of his mind.

Enjolras rubbed his face, trying to dislodge the hold this boy had on him, but to no avail. He sighed, standing and stumbling into the bathroom. He fumbled for a bit, before successfully turning on the faucet and bringing the cold water to his face, trying to wake himself from the seemingly endless daydream that had quickly become his life. His entire mind and body were buzzing with the thought of Grantaire beside and beneath him, no matter how much he wanted to deny it.

He was regretting the beer he'd had while talking with Grantaire, his mind was slightly hazy and it was hard to concentrate. He hadn't even wanted it in the first place, it was just something to busy his hands, so he wouldn't grab the cynic by the shoulders, push him up against a wall, and have him right then and there, rough and quick.

"Goddamn it, Enjolras." He muttered, looking at himself in the mirror. His hair stuck up on the left side, and he appeared wild, ragged, and lustful. Looking away quickly, he ran a hand over his face and climbed back into bed, trying to focus of the classes he had the next morning.

He didn't sleep well, and when he did, his dreams were filled images of a dark haired boy, just out of reach.


	2. A Prodigal Brute

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are many reasons as to why this was not posted sooner (most are really crappy, but whatever).  
> 1-AO3 hates me, and crashed a total of 15 times while I was writing this, deleting everything I had written each time.  
> 2-Sleep  
> 3-Supernatural  
> 4-Misha Collins  
> 5-Jensen Ackles  
> 6-Destiel  
> 7-Aaron Tveit  
> 8-George Blagden  
> 9-George Blagden's motorbike (sweet jesus)  
> 10-Vikings  
> 11-Athelstan feels  
> 12-Extstential Crisis  
> 13-General laziness  
> I think that about cover it...derp  
> So, there should be weekly updates on this from now on. Probably on Sundays...probably not.

-One week later-

Enjolras sighed, shuffling his papers together as the meeting disbanded, the students breaking into smaller groups to discuss their weekend plans. He dragged his fingers through his blonde hair, straightening up and striding over to the window in the corner of the small upstairs room of the cafe Musain. Here, the group of young men met to discuss the rising political and social tension of the current state of the world, and the mistreatment of subs by doms. Usually they met to discuss and occasionally took action outside of raising awareness and their online presence, although Enjolras itched to protest and picket at the capital building every day. But Combeferre wouldn't allow it, saying that Enjolras made more of a difference alive than if he were in jail or dead.

It had been a week since he had met Grantaire, who hadn't showed up to any of the meetings. Enjolras, with a knot in his stomach, assumed that the boy had better things to do than be holed up in a back room with a bunch of doms. He leaned out of the window slightly, the light breeze blowing on his face as he gazed down at the busy streets below. The sounds of gleeful children racing along filled the air, drifting up through the window.

Clouds were slowly gathering in the pale blue sky above, "Looks like rain." Combeferre remarked, a few paces behind Enjolras. The blonde nodded, not turning around to meet the other man's gaze. The soft steps of the guide came when he moved to stand next to Enjolras. "You okay?"

"Peachy." Enjolras muttered, crossing his arms and studying the worn wood of the windowsill.

The bespectacled man leaned over, placing a hand on the blonde's back, "Enjolras, you can tell me if something is bothering you. You've been off all week, ever since we went to the bar."

"I have no idea what you're talking about." He groaned, picking at the flakes of yellow paint on the side of the building, feeling a drop of water land on his hand. "I'm fine Ferre’." Enjolras repeated, straightening up. "Really."

"Alright." Combeferre put his hands up in surrendered. "Just if you ever need to talk, know that I'm here. Okay?"

The blonde nodded, grabbing his red hoodie off of the back of his chair. "I know, you're always there for me." He smiled, tucking papers into his backpack and slinging it onto his shoulder. "Thanks 'Ferre." The guide put his hands down and gave him a weak smile. Enjolras pulled his hood up, and wandered out of the cafe without another word, a pit still in his stomach.

Stepping out onto the pavement, he felt the raindrops falling onto his head. Thankful for the hoodie, he made his way down the sidewalk, amongst the towering buildings. One the rain had started to fall most of the streets had emptied out, save for the couples standing under umbrellas holding hands, or kissing. Enjolras dropped his eyes, a lump forming in his throat when he remembered the awe filled look in Grantiare's eyes. For the past week he hadn't stopped thinking about the dark haired boy, every waking moment was occupied by the thought him. He was unable to focus on one thing for an extended period of time before his thoughts wandered back to the broken creature.  _You just met the guy!_ His brain would scream angrily.  _But you've know him you're entire life._  The bond would reply, his heart beating faster, much to his dismay.

Shaking his head, Enjolras sped up, turning the corner just as Courfeyrac called out to him from the doorway to the cafe. "Hey Enj!" The blonde turned as the slightly shorter boy ran over to him, ignoring the rain plastering his wavy brown hair to his forehead. "Is something wrong?" Eyes searching his leaders face for some sign of what was bothering him.

Enjolras sighed, shifting his backpack onto one shoulder and gave Courfeyrac a pointed glare, "Did Combeferre send you out here? Becasue I swear, if he did I'll-"

"No, no, nothing like that!" He shook his head rapidly while pinching the bridge of his nose, "You just seemed kinda off this week. Is something bothering you? Almost everyone has noticed, so don't act like it’s nothing."

"Like I told Combeferre, nothing is wrong. Honestly. I've just had a long week. That's all." Enjolras explained, making vague gestures with one hand as he spoke and walked with Courfeyrac down the rain sodden street. "I don't know why everyone thinks something is up!"

The other boy snorted, trying to hide the smirk that had bloomed on his face. "Come on Enjolras, like you don't know!" He looked up at the blonde, finding only confusion on his face. Sighing he continued, "All week you've been daydreaming and getting distracted like a lovesick puppy! You're almost as bad a Marius! And anytime someone points out what you're doing you get all flustered and start blushing!" He laughed, gripping his sides as they walked. "One might actually think that out glorious leader has fallen under the sway of desires of the flesh! The great Enjolras, in love!" He feigned shock before descending into another fit of laughter.

Enjolras flushed a deep scarlet, ducking his head to try and hide it as Courfeyrac laughed uncontrollably. The idea of him and Grantaire being together made his entire body go hot and his pulse quicken. He hadn't really thought much about how others might perceive his sudden change of heart and immediate attraction towards his elusive bondmate. All of his friends knew his feelings towards dom/sub relationships, and Grantaire challenged that state of mind, and Enjolras had no idea how his friends would react. Becasue of the fear of what they might think, Enjolras had not mentioned their meeting, hoping no one would notice his change in behavior or just writing it off as a bad week. But Courfeyrac was better at reading people that he'd initially thought, seeing right through his disguise with ease. 

As they got closer to the house Courfeyrac shared with Bahorel, Feuilly, and Joly, which was a block from Enjolras's apartment, Courfeyrac regained his composure and turned to Enjolras with a slightly more serious tone in his voice. His brown eyes were stern and demanded authority. "I'm sure people have already told you this but, you can talk to me. I'm not going to judge you. I care about you."

The blonde nodded, watching as Courfeyrac climbed the stairs to the door and fumbling with his key. "Thanks Couf. Have a good weekend"

The brunette smiled, opening the door. Before he stepped in he whispered with an air of mischievousness, "Hey, I think you've got a shadow." He pointed behind Enjolras with a wicked grin.

Turning to where he'd pointed Enjolras saw a dark figure shrink back into the security of the alley across the street. "Care to tell me how long I've had this 'shadow'?" He asked, slightly annoyed that Courfeyrac hadn't mentioned it earlier if he’d noticed.

Shrugging he replied simply, "Since I caught up with you outside the cafe." And with a final smile, he shut the door quietly behind him, leaving Enjolras standing on the porch in a rain soaked hoodie with a mysterious shadow that had been following him for more than a mile.

Sighing and putting his hand in his pockets, Enjolras walked towards the alley. Hope flared in the back of his mind, wanting it to be Grantaire.  _Stop it! It's not him! Why would it be him?_ As he got closer he saw the figure again, leaning against the brick wall, trying to appear as small as possible against the dark red wall, standing out in a light grey hoodie and dark pants. "Grantaire?" He asked upon entering the damp space between the buildings, the ground was mostly dirt and had become mud in the rain, sticking to his shoes and making him want to go home and take a shower. There was no response, only the slight shift in the shadow’s posture, bringing his shoulders up and ducking his head. "Were you following me?"

The figure's nod went almost undetected and he raised his hands to cover his face as Enjolras approached. His bright blue eyes were ringed with dark circles and gazed down at his own rain soaked shoes. "I'm sorry. I didn't- I um- I'll just-" He shrunk back against the brick wall, trying to make himself as small as possible. 

Enjolras recognized immediately what Grantaire was doing, despite the fact that his head was spinning from seeing the dark haired boy, he was trying to make himself the least threatening as he could. He'd seen Eponine do it when she'd been with Montparnasse, before she'd met Combeferre. Subs usually cowered in fear when they felt threatened or thought they had done something wrong, it was just a natural response to stressful situations. "Grantaire," He started, placing a hand on the boy's shoulder, ignoring the urge to push him further into the bricks until they made marks on his skin and fuck him until he screamed. Grantaire flinched away from his touch, averting his eyes from the blonde. "Why are you following me?"

"I was just- um." He mumbled, dropping his arms slightly, fear and awe still evident in his eyes. "I'm-I'm..." His body tensed and froze under Enjolras's touch, when he placed another hand on his other shoulder. "I have to...I have to go." He looked pointedly at his feet as he tried to move away from Enjolras, but the hands on his shoulder kept him in place.

"Why are you following me, Grantaire?" The blonde repeated more firmly, giving the sub a grim look, removing one of his hands from Grantaire's shoulder and placing it just above his head. "I think you owe me an explanation before you race off."

The smaller boy placed a hand on Enjolras's chest, feebly trying to push him off but failing miserably. He opened his mouth to answer, wetting his lips and then pressing them into a film line, "I wanted to be near you." He mumbled, hunching over slightly, making himself a few inches shorter than usual. "I just wanted to see you."

"Then why didn't you go to any of the meetings I invited you to?" Enjolras pressed the dark haired boy further into the wall, enjoying the small noise he made and the flicker of panic that crossed his features before disappearing again. He could smell the sharp scent of whiskey on the other boy's breath as he panted softly. They were almost flush against each other, and Enjolras could feel Grantaire's pulse quicken under his fingers. 

Grantaire paused, gripping onto Enjolras's hoodie with one hand as he spoke, "Why do you care?”

Enjolras sighed, "Becasue anything you do directly affects me." He gestured to his wrist, where the scars were hidden under his sleeve. Grantaire swallowed, knowing the same angry red marks on his arms were upon his Apollo as well, all because of him.

"I'm sorry." He looked down at his feet again, trying to ignore the look Enjolras was giving him.

"Stop apologizing. It's pathetic." The blonde said in a commanding voice, gripping the other boys jaw and lifting his face so they were looking at each other. 

Grantaire's deep blue eyes met Enjolras's pale blue ones, and they were both silent for a moment. Enjolras released his shoulder and straightened up giving him an annoyed look. "I expect you to stop with this shit," He grabbed the boy's wrist and pushed it up above his head, feeling his pulse hammering against his fingers. "I'll see you around, Grantaire." The blonde looked down at the dark haired boy, his sweatshirt had ridden up, exposing the dark line of hair running from his navel to below his waistband. Giving him one last disdainful look before stepping back a few paces and walking out of the alley, pulling his hood up over his blonde hair again.

-ooo-

Grantaire let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding when Enjolras moved away from him. Leaning against the wall, he heard the fading footfalls of his Apollo as he walked down the street. "Shit." He murmured, voice shaking as he spoke, running a hand through his unruly mop of black curls. His heart was beating at an immeasurable rate, and his knees were incredibly weak, just being around the blonde made him dizzy.

Shaking his head, and yanking on his hair, Grantaire straightened up and wandered out of the alley. The rain was letting up, the clouds were parting and a bit of pale blue sky could be seen. He'd wanted to go to one of the meetings, but when he got close to the cafe his hands started to shake and he felt like he was going to faint. The best he could do was watch the cafe from the alley, hoping to catch a flash of Enjolras coming or going from the tall yellow building. And today, when he'd seen the blonde walking down the street with his friends, something had urged him to follow. 

The last week he'd spent watching Enjolras from the alley, and drowning himself in cheap booze to numb the pain of not being able to be near his god. Before he'd met Enjolras, Grantaire had never thought about what it would be like to meet your bondmate and then be unable to be near them. He'd always thought that if he did meet his bondmate, which he'd assumed would never happen, they would be together instead of separated like he and Enjolras were. He wasn’t even sure Enjolras wanted him. Being a rejected bondmate was worse than not having one in the first place.

 "Pull yourself together, R." He muttered, pulling his sweatshirt down from where it had ridden up to expose his lower stomach. Shoving his hood back over his black curls, he rushed out of the alley. Looking around, he saw the rain had stopped completely, the clouds completely gone with only the early evening sky in their place. His feet splashed through puddles as he walked towards his apartment on the other side of town. The muscles in his shoulders were tense and his neck hurt like a bitch. 

Rubbing the back of his neck he stumbled around the corner, and hailed a cab. Spending what little money was in his wallet he sat silently in the smelly back seat of the car as it bumped along the street. His mind wandered as he looked out the window at the towering buildings that reached to the sky. The memory of Enjolras pressed up against him in the alley seemed burned onto his retinas. It was all he really wanted, to be close to the blonde. Ever since that week Grantaire had only cut himself once, and that was during a drunken haze, simply out of habit. When drunk he typically fell into a state of self-loathing much worse than his perpetual state of self-hatred.

When he arrived at the small apartment building he called home, Grantaire paid the cabbie and wandered inside. He fumbled with the key for a minute before entering and flopping down on the hideous blue threadbare couch. The building had been built during the depression, and was never properly renovated, leaving holes in the walls and a draft that came from a perpetually broken window over the kitchen sink. It had only two rooms, a kitchen and a bathroom. One room was occupied by the couch, a ratty black and white TV, and an easel in the corner. The kitchen and bathroom were barley large enough for one person, and you could touch both walls if you wanted to without much effort. The bedroom was just across from the living room, and contained a few stacks of books, a small closet, and a bed which had no frame and instead just sat on the floor in a tangle of sheets. There was a line of empty Jack Daniels bottles at the head of the mattress, and other bottles and cans littered the floor along with dirty clothes strewn about the room. In all, the apartment was one of a man who didn't have all of his shit together, someone who was trapped in an in between state. In between adolescence and adulthood. In between hatred and love. In between life and death.

Stretching, he stood up, retrieved a beer from the minifridge that occupied the space under the sink, and wandered into his room. Grantaire stretched out on his bed and stared at the ceiling, mulling over the day as he drank until he felt numb. There wasn't much that he cared about. As long as no one got in the way of his drinking, Grantaire was content to exist the way he was. He cared about drinking and now, Enjolras. His days were spent waiting outside the cafe, straining to catch a glimpse of his Apollo, and his nights were spent drinking away the pain of not being near him. Grantaire was a man of contradictions. He cared, but didn't know why.

-ooo-

"BAHOREL! Get your ass out here!" Courfeyrac yelled down the hall, slamming the door behind him and racing over to the couch. In a single stride he jumped onto the back of the old leather sofa and pulled the curtains open just enough so that the alley was visible. From his vantage point he could see Enjolras walking briskly across the street to confront the shadowy figure waiting in between two brick buildings. 

Bahorel emerged from his room at the end of the hall a moment later. He wandered over to the edge of the couch, a cigarette hanging from his lips, his white shirt covered in ash from his chain smoking and other various stains. His short black hair stuck up on one side, and he groaned at the last bits of light streaming through the peephole in the curtains. "What is it Couf?" Pressing a palm against his eyes, the larger boy stood behind the other and craned his neck to see out the window.

Courfeyrac turned to him, a wicked grin spreading over his face. "Enjolras has a shadow!" He announced conspiratorially, grin widening at the shock registering on Bahorel's face.

"Wait, you can't be serious!" He grabbed one of the curtains and pulled it back enough so he could see the alley as well. Enjolras had forced the figure up against the wall and was only pushing the mysterious individual further into the brick.

Courfeyrac giggled like a schoolgirl, "They followed him all the way from the cafe!"

Enjolras gripped the shadow's wrist and shoved their arm over their head. "I'll be damned." Bahorel breathed, letting the butt fall to the ground. "Blondie's got a sex drive!"

Courfeyrac audibly gasped when the shadow writhed beneath Enjolras and then leaned against the wall when the blonde retreated. Shoving his hood over his head, Enjolras gave the figure a last long look before wandering out of the alley, and down the street. The shadow remained back up against the wall, not moving for a while, save for resting their head against the brick. "Should we go out?" Bahorel asked, unsure what to now that Enjolras had left. Confront the shadow? Ignore it and act like nothing happened?

"Wait." Courfeyrac placed a hand on Bahorel's arm, anchoring him where he leaned on the back of the couch. A moment later the figure straightened up, pulled their hood over their head to hide their face, and rushed out of the alley.

"Is that a..." Bahorel gaped, staring at the stray black curls sticking out from underneath the hood, the broad shoulders, and the undoubtedly male stride. "Dude?" Courfeyrac nodded, equally surprised that the figure was male. Everyone assumed that Enjolras was either asexual or straight, no one thought he was gay. But sure enough, Enjolras had been pushing another man into a wall without being provoked and never threw a punch. And anyone who knew Enjolras knew that that never happened. Something was clearly different with this man.

"Should we follow him?" Courfeyrac asked, brown eyes wide and excited.

Bahorel nodded, "I think that is a fantastic idea, Couf!" He stood up and grabbed a sweatshirt off of the kitchen table, crushing the dying embers of his cigarette with his barefoot in the process. Pulling on his shoes the dark haired boy looked up at the brunette. "You coming?"

“Fuck yes I am!” He beamed, following Bahorel outside, slamming the wooden door behind them.

 

 


	3. Confessions And Deceptions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...here we are again...me, failing to update in a normal span of time...sorry, but life and stuff is a bitch sometimes, especially finals. Uggh. But, anyway here you go! Chapter 4 will be out before the end of the month, I promise!

The loud rap of knuckles against Grantaire's front door echoed through the small apartment. He was splayed out on his bed, empty bottle clutched in one hand, the other twisted into his black curls. The blinking red light of the fire alarm above him reflected off his pale skin. He wasn't sure how long he'd laid there before the knocking came again, this time louder and more urgent.

Sighing he sat up, setting the bottle next to the mattress and stumbled over to the door. He was barley able to stay vertical, leaning against the door to stay standing as his vision swam. Another knock came, louder and heavier this time. The cynic righted himself, opening the door just enough so he could peek through the crack to see the two boys outside. "What do you want?" He said gruffly, slurring his words together slightly.

"We um-" The taller one with dark hair started, unsure of what to say while gesturing to himself and the other boy with wide green eyes and wavy brown hair.

Grantaire opened the door so he was face to face with them, propping himself up on the doorframe with his elbow. "Look, I'm not interested in buying Girl Scout Cookies because, I hate kids. I'm not going to donate to help starving people in Africa, because I hate people. And I'm definitely not becoming religious, because religion is stupid. So you're free to leave, because honestly, I've got another bottle of whiskey over there," He jammed his thumb back into the apartment, towards the coffee table that was littered with empty bottles. "And I have no interest in talking with a bunch of self righteous Doms. So with the utmost respect, fuck off." Thoroughly satisfied with his speech, Grantaire started to close the door, smirking.

"Wait!" The brunette's arm shot out to stop the door; a few fingers got stuck in between the door and the frame. "We know about Enjolras!"

The cynic froze; his blood ran cold as he released the door handle to look the boys in the eye. His voice was barley a whisper and no longer had the cocky tone to it. "W-what?" His brain was screaming, telling him to slam the door and hide from these strange people who claimed to know about him and Enjolras. 

"We know there’s something weird going on between you two." The dark haired boy repeated, brows raised as though expecting an explanation.

Grantaire worried his lip between his teeth, his fingernails cutting small halfmoons into his palms as he clenched his hands into fists at his sides. "How-how did you find out?"

"Well, we saw you guys basically grinding in the alley earlier!" The brunette interjected, looking pleased with himself when Grantaire flushed bright red. "So, can we come in?”

The cynic was silent for a moment before seeming to snap out of his trance, "Oh um- yea, yea sure." He moved to the side to let them in, retreating to the couch. "Let me just- shit." He muttered, trying to clear some space on the chair and couch, which were usually covered in various empty cans and bottles. One slipped from his arms, bouncing on the floor before stopping at the toe of Bahorel's boot.

"I got it. Just because you’re a sub doesn’t mean you have to do all the work!" Bahorel smiled, stopping Grantaire before he could stoop to pick it up, "Here, where do you want this?" He asked, holding the beer can in one hand, gesturing to the apartment that seemed to have been decorated only with beer cans and empty bottles along with the occasional article of clothing.

"Uh- just anywhere is fine." Grantaire answered, dropping his armload into a corner and brushing his hands on his jeans before sitting opposite the brunette and Bahorel on the couch. "I'm Grantaire, by the way." He offered his hand to the brunette, who accepted instantly, giving him a wide grin.

"I’m Courfeyrac, and this is Bahorel." He smirked, raising his eyebrow as they shook hands. "So, I saw you follow Enjolras home today. I also saw you do it yesterday. And the day before that. Care to explain?"

-ooo-

Enjolras sighed, pulling out his phone as he slouched into his apartment. Flinging his sweatshirt over the back of the couch he flopped down, rubbing a hand over his face. Instinctively, he tapped the familiar number into his phone and held his breath as it rang. "Enjolras?" Combeferre answered, slightly confused given the fact that it was one in the morning.

The blonde had wandered the streets for hours after he left Grantaire  in the alleyway, not going anywhere specific, but knowing that he was avoiding something. Eventually he found himself back in the bar where he met the dark haired boy that had taken over his life, drunkenly contemplating how to get rid of the pit that seemed to have taken up a permanent residence in his stomach ever since they had crossed paths. It had only been a little over a week, but it felt like his entire world had been turned upside down, and Combeferre was the only person he could think to ask for help. But, granted that he was completely wasted, he knew it was going to be difficult to articulate what he was thinking to the guide.

Enjolras wasn't a drinker. He only indulged in alcohol on special occasions or particularly harsh days, or in some cases, weeks. He hadn't gone into the Green Fairy with the intent of getting totally trashed, originally planning to just sit and think in the mostly empty bar. However, just being in the same place where they had met made his hands shake and his heart beat faster. The only readily available solution being alcohol, he drank until he felt numb. 

"Combeferre." He breathed, screwing his eyes shut, trying to get the incessant thumping behind his eyes to cease. "I need to talk to you."

There was a longer pause before the guide hesitantly answered. "Enjolras, you're slurring your words...are you okay?"

"No. I'm not. I've never felt like this before!" He answered immediately, shaking his head rapidly. "Ferre' I don't know what to do!" He wailed into the phone, letting his head flop against the couch. 

"Hey, it's going to be okay." He soothed, trying to calm the blonde boy down as best he could, but failing miserably. "Just tell me what's going on, okay?"

Enjolras practically screamed into the phone, abandoning any sense of sanity he had left. "It feels like my head is on fire! My chest feels like it's going to burst and I want to scream! It feels like someone has attached meakhooks to every inch of my body and they're pulling all of them at once! I just want it to stop!" He could hear Combeferre saying something, but the words didn't make sense. All he could hear was a jumble of sounds trying to calm him, but they did nothing. "Ferre, I can't think straight, I can't focus on anything. I can't sleep with out thinking about him!" Enjolras could feel the stray tear roll down his cheek as he continued. "I just want it to stop."

"Enjolras!" The voice on the other end picked up a commanding air to it, "You need to calm down and go to bed. It’s on in the morning, and I really can’t help you right now, so the best thing you can do it maybe make yourself some tea or take a hot bath and go to bed. We can talk at Courfeyrac's party tomorrow. Okay?"

The blonde nodded silently before he remembered that the guide couldn't see him, "Okay. Goodnight 'Ferre." Sighing, he held his breath until the line clicked dead, staring into the silence for a while before placing the phone on his lap. He didn’t want to move, let alone make tea or take a bath, so he just sat on the couch, staring at the wall. Eventually Enjolras put the phone down and wrapped a blanket around himself, the light from the stoplight across the street filtered through the window and the blinking yellow light illuminated half of his face. For the first time in a long time Enjolras felt utterly alone.

-ooo-

Enjolras rubbed sleep from his eyes, squinting into the early evening light shining through the window. Slowly he sat up, pressing a hand to his forehead where expected to find a throbbing pain but found none. Usually he would have at least a headache after drinking but for some reason he was clear eyed and sober. He swung his legs over the side of the couch and picked up his phone, which had fallen on the floor as he slept. It was 7:56pm, there were three texts from Combeferre, all of which were about why he wasn't at Courfeyrac's party yet. He usually slept quite heavily when drunk, but never this late.

Finals week had just ended, and the center had invited everyone over for dinner and drinks, a formula for insanity in Enjolras's opinion. In the past these types of parties usually ended with no memory of the night before, an experience which Enjolras never really enjoyed. 

He quickly threw on a new shirt and tapped out a message to Combeferre, informing him that he was on his way. At the last minute he grabbed the only bottle of alcohol in his apartment; a bottle of wine he'd gotten from his parents for his birthday, and left the tiny place he called home.

His parents had never supported him as a child, their only interests had been in making money through his fathers career in politics. When Grantaire had started cutting his parents had not offered any help, only saying that his bondmate must be a ‘very weak young lady if they resorted to such an act’. They visited him in the hospital when he got alcohol poisoning, from Grantaire no doubt, they blamed him for it, saying it was his own fault for not seeking out his bondmate.

Enjolras’s Mom and Dad were a traditional couple; bondmates who had met in High School and gotten married and had Enjolras a few years later. Nothing out of the ordinary. His parents disapproved of homosexual bondmates, claiming that there was no possible way that they could actually be bonded and were 'a crime against nature and a disgrace to the natural order of the world'. Enjolras disagreed, but never voiced his thoughts, fearing their wrath. There were few things the blonde man feared, but his parents were one of them. He was not looking forward to telling them his bondmate was a man with a possible drinking problem.

The late spring air buffeted against him, warming him and blowing his blonde hair in every direction as Enjolras stepped out into the cobblestone street that led to Courfeyrac's house. The sun had just dipped below the horizon, but it lit the sky with a pink and orange tinge that was so bright it was almost painful to look at. With his bottle of wine in hand he make his way towards the party, trying to ignore the pang of guilt for not being kinder to Grantaire  in the alley. 

"Enjolras!" Feuilly waved from the porch, where he, Bossuet, and Joly were talking over beers. The other two waved enthusiastically and then returned to their discussion. "Glad you made it!" 

The blonde waved back and acceded the steps, nodding to the three before going inside. The living room was filled with college students, only a few of whom Enjolras recognized, most of whom had drinks in their hands. "Enjolras!" Turning, he saw Courfeyrac elbowing his way through the crowd to reach him, a red solo cup clutched in one hand.

"Hey Couf." He said, handing over the bottle of wine, scanning the crowd for Combeferre. "Have you seen 'Ferre?"

The brunette shook his hair, shrugging " Thanks! And no, I haven't. But I do know where someone more interesting is!" He offered, nudging the blonde in the shoulder conspiratorially.

"I doubt that." Enjolras replied coolly, spotting the bespectacled man across the room, making out with Eponine on the couch. "I'll see you later, okay?" He offered, not looking at Courfeyrac as he strode towards the guide, ignoring the noise of protest the center made as he left. 

"Combeferre, we need to talk." He stated bluntly, placing a hand on the man's shoulder and pressing slightly to separate the couple. "Now." Enjolras added, nodding towards the backyard. The guide sighed, tenderly kissing Eponine on the cheek before wordlessly following the blonde out of the party.

Once they were outside on the back patio in the deserted yard and he had placed his beer on the ground he turned to Enjolras, "So, what's up with you? You sounded really bad last night."

"I was drunk." The blonde responded, flicking his hand dismissively, "But it's not of importance."

"Yes it is! You NEVER get drunk Enjolras! Something is really wrong here!" Combeferre folded his arms across his chest and looked at Enjolras over his glasses. "I'm worried about you."

Enjolras shook his head, "I know. Something came up and it's just been really weird for me..."

"How so?" The guide pressed, placing a hand on the blonde's shoulder.

Enjolras sighed and tangled his finger in his blonde hair before tipping his head back and whispering, "I-I met my bondmate, 'Ferre."

"You what?!" Combeferre grabbed both of Enjolras's shoulders, "Enjolras, that's fantastic!" He was smiling broadly and looked like a child who had been told they are going to Disneyland.  "Who is she? Is she here?" The guide looked back inside, where someone had turned on the speakers and was blasting Thrift Shop, searching for the object of his friend’s affections.

"He." Enjolras corrected, barley audible as he gazed at his shoes and the cement, suddenly very interested in the spot where the grass met the gray patio.

Combeferre was silent for a moment, "He?"

"He." The blonde confirmed, still studying the scuffed edges of his red converse.

He was taken by surprise when the guide enveloped him in a warm hug, chuckling in his ear. "That's great Enjolras!"

"No, it's not." The blonde muttered bitterly. "I never wanted this; dependency on another person. I have so many more thinks to do and causes to fight for! I can't afford to be attached to another person like they would want me to be." Combeferre released him, leaning against the tan wall and folded his arms again. "I mean, I barley know him but I know I want him, and I hate it!"

The guide studied him for a while, "That's how a bond works, Enjolras."

"I know that! But I just never thought..." The blonde trailed off, scraping one of his feet across the cement, marveling in the dark streak it left behind on the previously solid gray surface.

"It would affect you like it affects everyone else?" He smirked and picked up his beer from where he had set it on the ground. "Newsflash, you're not a king amongst men, Enjolras. You're human, and humans feel these sort of things." 

Enjolras looked up at him to see the cheeky grin on his friend's face. "No shit Sherlock." He poked the guide in the side with his finger, "So, what do I do? How do I deal with this?"

"You don't." Combeferre took a drink, shrugging. "Just do what you feel is right. You have to accept that you're connected and you have to face that Enjolras. You and this guy, whoever he is, are connected, and there's no denying it. Bondmates are destined to be together."

"So you believe in fate?" Enjolras raised an eyebrow. Combeferre was rational and logical, Enjolras never thought he conformed to blind faith.

The guide nodded, finishing his beer. "It's hard not to once you connect with your bondmate. Eponine is perfect! And I bet mystery man is just as amazing."

Enjolras blushed, thinking of Grantaire's dark curls, bright blue eyes that were usually clouded with drunkenness, and his complete awe of Enjolras. "Yeah, he is."

-ooo-  

A few hours later Enjolras was lounging on the couch with Combeferre, Eponine, and Jehan, chatting about finals. The guide had aced his biology final, the poet had turned in his writing portfolio, and Eponine had managed to pull a B+ on her Psychology test. Enjolras was telling them about some of the more ridiculous questions on the Law exam when Joly ran up to them looking panicked. "Montparnasse just showed up, and he's brought friends."

"Shit." Enjolras stood up, placing a hand on Joly shoulder to move past him. Maneuvering his way through the crowd the blonde made his way towards where the tall, greasy haired man was standing, surrounded by other identical to himself and girl fawning over them. It was a popular rumor that Montparnasse killed his bondmate after she got angry for him sleeping around with other girls, and there was no evidence that said otherwise.

Enjolras stepped around couples kissing and grinding on the carpet, careful not to loose sight of his target. But his resolve quickly crumbled when he spotted the familiar dark curls and green sweatshirt in the corner of the room. Every thought few out of his head and he found himself rushing across the room to grip Grantaire’s shoulder and spinning him around. "What are you doing here?"

Grantaire flushed pink and looked completely shocked. "E-Enjolras? Um-Courfeyrac and Bahorel invited me.  What are you doing here?"

"They're my friends." Enjolras folded his arms, barley resisting the urge to attack the sub's mouth with his own. "So, Couf and Bahorel invited you?"

"Um- yeah. We’re friends." He nodded, clutching the empty solo cup in his hand ever tighter as Enjolras gave him a doubtful look. "See, told you I know them." He pointed across the room to where Courfeyrac and Bahorel were giving them thumbs up.

The blonde groaned, releasing Grantaire from his vice like grip. "I'm going to kill them." He turned on his heel and stormed over to where the two were laughing like schoolboys. Enjolras was so consumed with going after his friends that he didn’t notice Montparnasse slink over to where Grantaire was standing and press a paper cup into his hand with a wicked smile.   


	4. Icarus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really don't know what happened here. I am just the vessel through which this story is written.

Enjolras slammed the heel of his palm into Bahorel's shoulder, shoving him away from his brunette partner in crime, sloshing some of the man's drink down the front of his denim jacket. "What the actual fuck do you think you're doing?" He demanded, grabbing the front of Courfeyrac's gray t-shirt, dragging him towards him until their faces were inches apart.

The center's eyes glinted mischievously and a grin spread across his lips as he looked up at Enjolras. "I don't know what you're talking about." He feigned innocence, flashing puppy-eyes at the blonde. "You have me confused with someone else, dear. Now if you could just put me down-"

Enjolras glared at the smaller man, interrupting him midsentence. "Don't play dumb with me! I know what you did. I just can't figure out how or why. Care to explain?" He released Courfeyrac from his grip, allowing him to slip back down a few inches.

Running a palm over his chest to smooth out the wrinkles, Courfeyrac gave the blonde a smug look. "I can assure you, you did this to yourself. We-" He gestured to Bahorel, who was staring at the ceiling in awe, no doubt high in some form or another, "Only gave you the push you needed. But you are responsible for this. That whole alley stunt you pulled was no where near as covert as you thought it was." Enjolras jammed his hands into his pockets, glancing around the room nervously. "What, you thought we couldn't see you shoving him against that wall and practically rutting like a dog?" The brunette laughed, placing a hand on the blonde's shoulder, bringing his attention back to the conversation.

"Courfeyrac, some day I will kill you." Enjolras said flatly, shrugging away from his hand and poking a finger into his ribs. "And no one will be able to identify your body because it will look like you lost a fight with a Cuisinart."

The center nodded solemly, contemplating the image before looking Enjolras directly in the eye and asking, "I thought you didn't like the Cuisinart people because they employ Chinese laborers and pay them next to nothing for their work." He smirked and wiggled his eyebrows as the blonde groaned and ran a hand over his face.

A scuffle broke out on the other end of the room, drawing everyone's attention to where Combeferre and Bossuet were forcefully moving Montparnasse and his goons out the door. "Get out! And don't come back!" Bossuet yelled slamming the door behind them and giving the guide a thumbs up.

"Listen, what I'm saying is, don't fuck around in my business. Ever. Again. Or. I. Will. End. You." Enjolras punctuated each word by gripping Courfeyrac's shoulder and squeezing each time he spoke. "Are we clear?"

"Alright!" He threw his hands up in surrender, prying the hand off of his shoulder. "What ever you say." Courfeyrac gave the blonde a sideways smile and tiled his head to one side. "Hey, we were just trying to nudge you in the right direction, considering how you don't take bonds real seriously."

Enjolras folded his arms defensively, "I take bonds seriously."

"So, you're ashamed of him, then?" The brunette countered, matching Enjolras's posture; folded arms, puffed out chest and raised eyebrows.

The blonde opened his mouth to protest but was silenced by the shorter man's question, "So you take bonds seriously and you're not ashamed of him, that's good. But riddle me this, if those things are true, then why didn't you tell anyone about Grantaire?" Courfeyrac puzzled earnestly, relaxing his shoulders and sighing in annoyance.

Enjolras floundered, caught off guard because in truth, he didn't know why he'd kept Grantaire a secret, only mentioning him to Combeferre a little while earlier. There really was no good reason to hide the dark haired boy from his friends, but for some reason Enjolras felt like he couldn't, not yet anyway. Ever since the bar he hadn't been the same, it was harder to keep his thoughts under control, let alone hide them from his friends who saw him most hours of the day. And this sudden intrusion into what he considered his personal life made him feel violated by the people he trusted most of all.

"Goodbye Courfeyrac." He intoned in annoyance, trying to hide how deeply the question had shaken him.

The center called after the blonde, his words lost in the thumping bass of Eye of The Tiger, which was being blasted into every corner of the house. "Remember, safe sex is good sex!"

Turning on his heel, Enjolras pushed his way through the crowd of dancing people towards where Grantaire had been earlier. Once he reached the corner next to the front door where the dark haired boy had been the blonde was surprised to find it occupied only by two young girls playing a rousing game tonsil tennis, their fingers wound tightly into each other’s hair as they moaned into the other's mouth. "Hmmm." Enjolras turned looking around for Grantaire amongst the crowd, but finding only his friends chatting and dancing or people he didn't know engaging in various acts of foreplay. 

A small part of his mind began to descend into panic, worrying about where he could have gone, while the rest of him tried to rationalize Grantaire's sudden disappearance. He could hear the blood pounding in his ears as he rushed back into the kitchen, hoping to see the familiar mop of curly hair bent over a bottle or chatting with someone, but to avail. With each room he checked the panic began to consume him and he shoved his way through the crowd of people with more desperation. 

"Grantaire!" He shouted, elbowing a couple out of the way trying to reach the final room in the house; Bahorel's room. Throwing the door open he prayed to a god he didn't believe in that the dark haired boy would be passed out on the bed. Instead he was confronted with a completely empty room save for a mattress and a fishbowl on the floor next to the pillow, two bright yellow goldfish swam around the glass tank happily, chasing each other in circles around their circular home. 

His stomach dropped instantly, Grantaire wasn't in the house. Shit. 

-ooo-

Grantaire sighed as Enjolras stormed off towards Courfeyrac and Bahorel, leaving him stranded in the corner of the room. Glancing around he leaned back against the wall and clenched his jaw. Mind buzzing, he came to the conclusion that he shouldn't have come. Enjolras clearly didn't want him there and was angry with Courf and Bahorel for inviting him. It would be for the best if he left and went home. His Apollo didn't want him there, and nobody else knew him there so there was no point in staying.

"Hey." A boy, slightly taller than him with greasy black hair and a leather jacket to match hovered next to him, two drinks in hand. He had a sly grin and dark green eyes that seemed to be hiding something.

"Hi." He grunted, craning his neck to see Enjolras grab Courfeyrac's shirt.

The larger boy moved to block his view, placing an arm above his head, effectively trapping him against the wall with his body. "Drink?" He offered a paper cup to Grantaire, who accepted it immediately.

"Thanks." He mumbled softly, taking a long drink and humming appreciatively. Who was he to reject a drink from a handsome stranger at a party where he wasn't wanted? Grantaire had already lost count of how many drink's he had, and the world was beginning to descend into the familiar one filled with the fumes of alcohol and distorted shapes the replaced faces.

The stranger leaned in closer and Grantaire could smell the beer on his breath as he toyed with a single dark curl on his head. "So, are you alone? Seems unlikely you came here by yourself."

Grantaire shook his head, "I'm alone." He continued to nurse his new drink ever few moments, enjoying the warmth filing his limbs that it brought, until it was almost gone.

"That's not possible." The man chuckled, revealing pearly white teeth behind dark red lips. "A guy with your looks, come on!"

Grantaire could feel a knot twisting in his stomach, "I'm not really comfortable with-"

"I'm just playing, kidding, fooling around, whatever." He laughed, tugging lightly at Grantaire's hair with one hand as he cupped his cheek in his other hand. Grantaire tried to twist away from his touch, but only succeeded in having the man knock the now empty cup from his hands. "Come on now, I got you a drink! The least you can do it pay me back for the trouble of even bothering with getting you one." He smirked, dropping his hand from his cheek to Grantaire’s neck and trailing it along the edge of his collar.

"I'm really not okay with what you're trying to-" The stranger silenced Grantaire with a hand over his mouth as the other mover further south.

Grantaire fidgeted, trying to get away. He glanced around the room, searching for someone to help him, but found only Enjolras arguing with Courfeyrac. A small shriek escaped his lips, only to be muffled by the calloused hand on his mouth, as the stranger slipped his hand under his shirt and began running his long fingers over his abdomen. "Shhhhh. Don't be like that." The man cooed, brushing his thumb over his cheekbone in a gesture that was so sweet and domestic it made Grantaire want to throw up on the spot.

Grantaire twisted under the taller man's grip, trying to get away, praying to a god he didn't believe in that someone would notice him and help. He bit the inside of his lip as the fingers brushed along the trail of dark hair that disappeared beneath his waistband. The man let out an appreciative hum and slipped one finger below his belt and inside his jeans, his wrist pressing against his hipbone. "Don't be scared, I've got you." His voice was silky and smooth as he removed the hand from Grantaire's mouth, sparing him a moment to gasp for breath before replacing it with his own lips.

Grantaire tried to scream as the stranger forced his mouth open and began exploring a moment later. He twisted and pushed against the man's chest, but the alcohol had made his brain feel fuzzy and his arms felt like Jell-O, a feeling he wasn't unfamiliar with.

"What are you doing?" Someone asked, placing a hand on the stranger's shoulder and ripping him off of Grantaire. He gasped for breath and pulled the man's hand out of his pants as quickly as he could. His heart was hammering and felt like it was going to rip right out of his chest.

"Jesus Combeferre!" The stranger shoved at the other man's shoulder playfully, "I was just having a little fun with my new friend!" He slung an arm over Grantaire's shoulder, pulling him closer to his body. Grantaire was sure that he was visibly shaking with panic. His vocal chords felt frozen but he could shake his head violently when the man continued. "Isn't that right?"

Grantaire shook his head instantly and grabbed onto Combeferre's arm, the ability to speak restored. "He's lying! I don't even know who he is! He just started touching me!" The guide placed a hand on the dark haired boy's shoulder, and glared at the stranger, pulling Grantaire out of his grip.

The blonde glared at the stranger over his glasses, and growled sternly. "I think you should leave, Montparnasse."

Another man appeared behind him an instant later, slightly shorter, with a buzz cut. He cracked his knuckles, and rolled his shoulders menacingly. "We think you and all of your friends should leave. Now."

Montparnasse started to protest, moving towards Grantaire, who was cowering near Combeferre, but the guide silenced him with a punch to his jaw. "Leave. Now." The greasy haired man stumbled back a few feet, some of his goons rushing to his aid, and gripped his jaw. "Get out, and don't come back."

Montparnasse raised his hands in surrender, "Fine, if you're going to kick me out because some little slut freaked out on me, then I'll just go!" He smoothed his hair back and straightened his jacket. "See ya 'round." He winked at Grantaire, and licked his lips.

"Get the fuck out!" Bossuet lunged forward and shoved Montparnasse towards the door. A moment later Combeferre was aiding in forcefully removing the greasy haired man from the party, along with all of his friends.

Grantaire was trying to catch his breath and ran a hand through his hair. He shook his head to clear his thoughts and as his saviors kicked Montparnasse out the front door. It was obvious to most of the party that something was going on due to the shouting coming from Montparnasse's goons as they were shoved out.

Sighing he turned, not wanting to think about what might have happened if Combeferre hadn't showed up, and wandered towards the kitchen. Grantaire grabbed the first bottle he could find abandoned and half empty on the tile counter and stumbled out the back door. His entire body was shaking as he sat down on the step of the porch next to the concrete patio. Running a hand down his face, Grantaire took a drink from the bottle and looked up at the sky, filled with distant twinkling lights.

Every fiber of his being wanted to break down into tears and just let go, but some part of him kept his grounded because he knew that somewhere in that house Enjolras was tearing Courfeyrac and Bahorel a new one. The idea that in a perfect world Enjolras might wander out and find him kept his from sobbing and going home. But deep down Grantaire knew that things like that didn't happen. Enjolras wasn't going to find him and hold him and tell him it's okay. Instead, he was just going to spend the rest of the night alone on Courfeyrac's porch, drinking directly from the Jack Daniel's bottle, and staring up at the late spring night sky.

He took another gulp of alcohol, shuddering at the burn. His mind was buzzing with intoxication, making the world fuzzy. Grantaire felt oddly dizzy despite not trying to walk or even stand, but it passed a moment later.

Leaning back so he was braced on the heels of his palms, Grantaire studied the stars, picking out constellations. Virgo and Bootes were the only ones he recognized amongst the multitude of stars staring down at him from the deep black void of space. He was so engulfed in the little lights lighting up the sky that Grantaire didn't hear the door open and close.

"Grantaire!" Enjolras exclaimed, rushing over to him and embracing the dark haired boy immediately. "Where did you go?" The blonde just clutched Grantaire to his chest like a lifeline, gripping the nape of his neck with one hand. "I was so worried that something happened, I heard people yelling earlier!"

Grantaire froze, unwilling to accept that his Apollo was holding him like he's dreamed for the past few weeks and hoped for all his life. There was no way he was here. I'm drunk. He thought to himself, still unmoving in the blonde's embrace. "You're not real." He whispered, pushing Enjolras off of him gently. "I'm drunk, and you're-you're a hallucination!" He laughed harshly, "I'm crazy!"  
Enjolras looked at him with concern wrinkling his brow, "Why would you say that? I'm real, why would you think I'm a hallucination?"

"Because Enjolras hates me." Grantaire whispered, barley audible as he ducked his head away from the blonde. He screwed his eyes shut, willing the apparition away and holding his head when the dizziness returned. "He despises me."

Opening his blue eyes again he was shocked that Enjolras was still there, looking even more hurt and concerned than before. "I don't hate you, Grantaire. I-I" He fumbled, gripping Grantaire's shoulder softly. "I don't despise you. I'm partial to you..." Enjolras trailed off, unsure of what to say. He had always been bad at this type of thing and it showed, painfully obvious. "Grantaire I-" He tried again but shook his head, visibly groping for words.

Grantaire looked up at him confused by his inability to articulate his words with the grace he usually had. It was odd to see his Apollo weighted down by human emotions he so rarely expressed. The dark haired man assumed that the blonde would explain that he considered Grantaire and inconvience or a burden. The last thing he expected Enjolras to do was kiss him, quickly and chastely on the lips. Grantaire's eyes widened in shock as the other boy pressed his lips to his own. He took the opportunity to memorize the feel of Enjolras's soft, round lips on his own, a memory he was sure to cherish.

It was over as abruptly as it had started, Enjolras was drawing away, a scarlet blush dancing across his cheeks. "I don't know why I did that. I-I just can't stop thinking about you. Whatever this" He gestured to both of them hurridely,"is we have to deal with it. Acting like it's nothing isn't going to solve anything, it'll just get worse."

Grantaire nodded, slowly. "So, I um-" He paused, swiping a thumb over his lips, "What do we do? How do we deal with this, whatever it is?"

Enjolras shook his head, blonde curls bouncing in the cool spring breeze. "I don't know. Maybe have an actual conversation, to start..." He glanced over as Grantaire gripped the side of his head, groaning. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'll be fine. Just a little dizzy and tired." He mumbled something and gripped his head even tighter and exhaled deeply. Grantaire swayed slightly from where he was sitting on the deck, legs dangling off the steps. "Hey, is the world spinning for you too?"

Enjolras paused, confused by the sudden change of topic. "Um, no."

"So it's just me, what a comforting thought." The dark haired boy slurred before hunching over and vomiting all over the steps with a horrible wrenching noise. His entire body was shaking uncontrollably as he emptied the contents of his stomach onto the stairs and grass.

Enjolras jumped up and put a hand on Grantaire's shoulder, "Oh my god! How much did you have to drink?" Concern was mixed with genuine anger about the idea of his bondmate drinking heavily enough to throw up without warning.

Once he'd finished redecorating Courfeyrac's stairs Grantaire looked up at his Apollo, the light from the kitchen casting odd shadows on his face that made him look almost demonic looking up at the blonde. "I'm not drunk, Enjolras." Sweat was begining to form on his brow line, and it wasn't from the warm spring night.

The blonde folded his arms in annoyance, "Really, then why are you barfing?" HIs entire being eminated superiority and power, making Grantaire feel small and yet, at the same time, oddly safe. The dark haired boy felt safe around his bondmate, safer than he'd ever felt before. 

"I know my limits pretty well, something's wrong. Enjolras, something's wrong with me." Grantaire looked like a scared child now, gasping as another fit of wrenching attacked his body, although his stomach was already empty. "Shit, something is really wrong." Enjolras dropped down on his knees and grabbed Grantaire's shoulder, worry flashing over his steady blue eyes. The dark haired boy tried to catch his breath for a moment before wrapping his arms around the blonde. "What's happening to me?" He whispered before the world before his eyes blurred completely and then went black as he slumped forward onto Enjolras's shoulder. The last thing he heard before blacking out was Enjolras yelling for someone named Joly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because we're all sadists, and like to hurt the cute ones! :D


	5. Clash of the Titans

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I had Bossuet and Musichetta feels in this, don't stab me.  
> #I haven't properly edited this so this warning will be removed once I have dinner and finally get around to reading through this

The previously hazy light in Grantaire's eyes faded in an instant as he slumped forward onto Enjolras's shoulder, his arms limp and hanging at his sides. He was still breathing but didn't respond when the blonde shook his shoulder softly, and then roughly a moment later. "Joly!" He yelled towards the house, panic rising inside him. Something was really wrong. Enjolras had dealt with the Amis when they were drunk, but it was never this sudden. They never got scared, or insisted that something wasn't right.

The panic and fear he'd seen in Grantaire's pale blue eyes had been genuine when he'd twisted his fingers into Enjolras's shirt. The blonde had watched as those blue eyes had found his and then went unfocused as he lost consciousness. "Grantaire!" He shook they boy's shoulder again, hoping with every ounce of his being that his bondmate was just joking around.

Enjolras shook him even more violently; his head flopping back like a ragdoll's. "Joly!" The blonde tucked Grantaire's head under his chin and rubbed his back nervously.

"What?" Joly stuck his head out the door, his hair sticking up in odd directions, Musichetta and Bossuet were just behind him, all just as disheveled as the med-student. Bossuet was rubbing his eyes furiously and looking around in confusion. They'd probably been smoking pot again, as they often did before sex. Joly had a tendency to over share sometimes, and Enjolras had been the one to receive his frenzied explanation when the three of them had been caught making out in a closet at a party the previous year.

His brown eyes flicked around, taking in the scene before him, vomit covering the stairs and Grantaire slumped forward, in a position that could only be described as 'unnatural', onto a very panicked looking Enjolras. "What the fuck?" He mumbled rubbing a hand over his face as he stumbled towards the odd pair. He stooped down, careful to avoid the substance that covered the stairs and some of the grass, and placed a hand on the blonde’s shoulder. "Enj-ras, what happened?"

Enjolras looked up at him, still gripping Grantaire tightly with one hand, the other braced against the wooden porch to keep them upright. "I-I don't know, he was fine one moment and the he-he started vomiting and got really freaked out and then he just passed out!" The blonde shook Grantaire's shoulder again, trying in vain to rouse him. " Joly what's wrong with him!?"

The brunette shuddered as he reached out and placed his hand on the dark haired boy's forehead, which tipped back lazily at his touch. "He's not hot, so he doesn't have a fever. How much did he have to drink tonight?" Joly asked, concern evident in his tone as he continued to examine Grantaire, who was still being held protectively by Enjolras.

"Um, I don't actually know, but he said he knows his limits pretty well." Enjolras tried to swallow the fear building in his stomach.  _How much does Grantaire drink?_  He wondered to himself, before pushing the thought away. He had no reason to believe that this boy had a drinking problem, but there was still a nagging sensation in the back of his mind that told him otherwise.

Joly frowned and let out a negative noise, "Bossuet, I need you to go inside and get me the tupperware box under the bathroom sink. The one with New York Giants ductape on one side.  Musichetta, can you go inside and get all of the cups that people aren't drinking or claiming." The two nodded, and head back inside as Joly turned back to Enjolras, worrying his lip between his teeth. "I can't find anything wrong with him other than a slightly elevated heart rate, but nothing really unusual. Enj, you really have no idea what happened?"

He shook his head negative, "We were just talking and it happened out of no where." Tenderly, the blonde cradled the unconscious boy's head to his chest, running fingers through his hair, and whispering softly to Grantaire. "I'm here, it's okay. I've got you."

Joly shifted back onto his feet so he was still at eye level, but no longer on his knees. "Enjolras, who is this?" To Joly, it appeared that Enjolras was clutching some random unconsience boy in Courfeyrac's backyard. 

Enjolras stiffened, pulling Grantaire closer to him out of instinct. Joly, Bossuet, and Musichetta were a rare case, three people sharing a bond, instead of just two. "His name's Grantaire, and he's my-um..." There was a very little chance that Joly would be able to keep their bond a secret, as he was know to tell Musichetta and Bossuet everything. "He's a friend."

"Right." Joly nodded, and stood as Bossuet reappeared with the 'decorated' tupperware under one arm, one hand tucked into the pocket of his brown sweatpants. His eyes were blood shot as he handed them to the brunette. "Thanks! Can you go help 'Chetta?"

"Sure." Bossuet mumbled, stumbling back into the house, not bothering to shut the door behind him. 

Joly popped the lid of the box and after digging through the plethora of medical supplies removed a small paper envelope and handed it to Enjolras, "Don't get that wet with anything, okay? I'm going to help them." The med student stood up and before leaving, placed a hand on Enjolras's shoulder, "He's going to be okay." And then turned and strode inside, closing the door behind him. 

"Grantaire." Enjolras muttered, resting his chin on top of the boy's head, his dark curls were soft against the blonde's cheek. His stomach twisted into a knot inside of him and his throat closed up. There was no denying that his heart was soaring just having Grantaire in his arms. The urges, the ones that whispered to him to violently take the dark haired boy and thrust into him until he cried and became a whimpering mess beneath him, he'd felt before were gone, replaced by a white hot warmth that enveloped and blinded him. The feeble breaths that tickled his neck made Enjolras want to clutch Grantaire closer to him and never let him go. 

His entire soul vibrated with happiness and it scared Enjolras, filling him with a dark pit of fear that clashed with the light blossoming inside him. He'd never depended on another person so heavily for his happiness, the idea of losing Grantaire was unbearable and made him want to throw up. Knowing that the dark haired boy though Enjolras hated him made him want to scream. There was no way he could allow Grantaire to believe that he didn't care when he felt broken and incomplete without him by his side.

Enjolras pressed a soft kiss to the boy's forehead and wrapped a hand around his waist to pull him closer, their heartbeats falling into unison.  _Why did it take so long for this to happen?_

 -ooo-

"Okay we're back." Joly announced, opening the door and letting Bossuet and Musichetta outside after him. Only Joly was clutching a red solo cup, the other two were empty handed. "Someone said they saw Grantaire with this cup. Envelope?" He sat down next to the pair and took the small white package from Enjolras. "Okay..." 

Joly removed a slip of cream colored paper from the envelope and dipped it into the remains of whatever drink had inhabited the cup and swirled it around for a moment before pulling it out. "Now we let it dry." He muttered to himself, holding the scrap of paper up to the light as if it were made of gold.

"Joly, what is that?" Enjolras asked tentatively, unsure of he really wanted to know. But he needed to be well informed, for Grantaire’s sake.

The med student jammed a hand into his pocket, something he often did when uncomfortable, and turned back to the blonde. "Hopefully, it's unnecessary." He muttered something to himself and turned back to the light, studying the strip.

Enjolras sighed, nervously running fingers through Grantaire's mop of curls. Glancing around he caught Musichetta's knowing look as a smile played across her lips. The blonde blushed furiously and removed his hand from the dark haired boy's hair and fisted it at his side. He was embarrassed that the longhaired brunette could read him that easily, even when inhibited by drugs. 

Bossuet was leaning against the railing, studying the grass as if it held the answer to al of life’s questions, but was refusing to tell, instead just sitting there like...grass. His expression was one of quiet confusion, brows knitted together and lips pressed into a firm line. It wasn't surprising that he was quieter than most of the Amis, given that his luck wasn't the best. Bossuet had a difficult time with talking to people and often stuttered, making it difficult to understand him at time. Enjolras had met him a few years ago at a rally where the quiet boy had been sitting on a park bench and just listened to his speech. Afterwards, Bossuet had come over and said that he agreed with the cause and wanted to help, but in much fewer words. 

About a month later he met Joly, who was dating Musichetta at the time, and it had been instantly clear that the three of them were bonded. By the next week all three of them were living together in Joly's tiny flat. That had been Enjolras's first experience with bonds first hand and it made him uncomfortable. He was convinced that it was just an excuse to explain the odd nature of their relationship.

Soon after that Jehan and Courfeyrac got together, followed shortly behind by Eponine and Combeferre, leaving only Feuilly, Bahorel, and him as the only one of the Amis who hadn't met their bondmate. Enjolras thought it was a load of crap that the government used to keep certain members of society down. But once he'd met Grantaire his entire worldview changed. He still believed that the government kept Subs down through the stereotypical Dom/Sub relationship, but now the blonde wasn't so sure it was bullshit, not all of it.   

Grantaire made him want to settle down in a house with a white picket fence in a suburb with a dog in the yard and maybe a kid. Grantaire made Enjolras crave the apple-pie-life he's never wanted before. Grantaire was everything he'd never wanted but still craved with every ounce of his being.

"Musichetta, call the ambulance." Joly intoned harshly, jerking Enjolras from his thoughts. His brown eyes were filled with concern and he gripped the slip of paper in one hand. Only now, instead of being a light cream it was a rich royal blue that was wrapped in the pale light from the porch light. 

Enjolras felt his stomach drop and he clutched Grantaire closer to him, refusing to let him go, fearing the worst. "Joly?" He murmured, his words slightly muffled by the dark curls that grazed his lips.

"Enjolras," Joly paused, and jammed his hands into his pockets before continuing. "Grantaire's drink tested positive for rohypnol."

-ooo-

The next few hours flew by in a blur that Enjolras wouldn't be able to recall by the next week. All he caught in the buzz of fear was Joly and Bossuet carrying Grantaire out to the ambulance and Musichetta helping him into the back of the ambulance where he watched as the paramedics hooked the dark haired boy up to a machine that beeped in time with his heartbeat. The entire ride passed in what felt like a few seconds, but the blonde knew it was more like fifteen minutes. Then they were rolling his gurney into the ER where two nurses took blood samples and put an IV in his arm, right next to the numerous scars that decorated his pale skin.

The nurses looked at him worriedly as the doctor confirmed that someone had spiked his drink with rohypnol. The doctor, who possessed an unusually large nose, informed the four friends that they just needed Grantaire's body to process the drug and then he could go home. Apparently it was not uncommon for a Sub's body to shut down temporarily after a maximum of ten minutes after being exposed to the drug, thus the popular nature of the date-rape drug.

The entire time Enjolras couldn't help but remember how Grantaire was alert and happy when he'd left him to yell at Courfeyrac and Bahorel and half an hour later he was knocked out from the roofies. The only conclusion he could draw was that someone had slipped his Sub the drug after he'd left, and maybe if Enjolras hadn't left Grantaire he might not be lying unconsience in the ER on a Sunday night. Maybe they would be holding each other while looking at the stars.

Bossuet and Joly were curled up on a couch in the waiting room, the quiet boy's head resting on the hypochondriac's shoulder. Feuilly had shown up a few minutes after they had and informed them that the others were on their way but were trying to clear everybody out of Courfeyrac's house first. 

The entire time Enjolras never let go of Grantaire's hand. That was how Musichetta found him when she walked into Grantaire's room about an hour after the doctors left. "Hey." She chuckled, gently putting hand on the blonde's shoulder.

Enjolras jumped in his seat, and dropped Grantaire’s hand instantly, not wanting to further support what he guessed Musichetta suspected. "Musichetta, you scared me!" He forced a laugh and looked up at her, involuntarily tapping his foot on the linoleum floor. 

The entire room was decorated in a mochromatic palate of light blue that somehow managed to be inviting and uncomfortable at the same time. Even the tube that split to wrap behind Grantaire's ears before rejoining to supply him oxygen through little nubs that went in his nostrils was blue.

Musichetta gave him the same smile she did at the house and shook her head. "It's nothing to be ashamed of." She soothed, taking one of Enjolras hands and guiding it back to Grantaire's. The blonde laced their fingers together once more and looked up at the brunette again, searching her face for an explanation. "I won't say anything, but you can't hide it forever. He won't want you to hide it."

Enjolras nodded and sighed, "I know, but it scares me...he scares me." The blonde looked over at Grantaire who almost looked like he was sleeping, save for the soft beeping coming from a machine above his head.

"You're afraid to care about him." Musichetta nodded and pulled another chair over so she could sit next to the two boys. She placed a hand on Enjolras's other arm and rubbed soothing circles with her thumb. "It's scary that someone could be that important. It's scary to think that without them you'll feel like nothing. You feel incomplete or broken without them, like there’s a piece missing."

Enjolras swallowed and tightened his grip on Grantaire's hand before nodding again. "It's terrifying. I've never cared about someone this much."

"You're not made of marble, Enjolras. You're allowed to have feelings." Musichetta paused and brushed a bit of blonde hair out of the boy's face. "You're allowed to love him."

There had never been any doubt in his mind that Enjolras wanted Grantaire, that he cared and wanted Grantaire. But at the mention of love his mind panicked. Love was a commitment that he'd never thought about expressing towards another person. It was an unfathomable swirling mass of emotion that he didn't know how to approach. Love was almost as terrifying as the idea of losing Grantaire. 

His entire life, Enjolras had been told that being gay was one of the worst things someone could do. His parents drilled into his mind at an early age that homosexuality was wrong and terrible and dirty. But Grantaire didn't feel wrong, terrible or dirty. Grantaire was the first thing in his life that felt completely right. He was the puzzle piece that had been missing for so long and had been finally snapped into place. 

"I don't know how to love him." Enjolras breathed, barley a whisper as he gazed down at their entwined fingers. It felt right, they fit together perfectly.

Musichetta rose from her chair and placed a soft kiss on his forehead, "You already do, Enjolras." She brushed a lock of chestnut hair out of her eyes and silently floated out of the room, leaving the two of them alone. 

Enjolras sighed deeply and rested his head against the edge of the bed.  _Do I love him? He's a man, just a man. So why does he scare me? Why is he so different?_ "Why do you scare me?" He whispered as the nurses began to turn off the lights in each room, getting closer to theirs with each moment. "Why do I want you?" A ginger nurse poked he head inside Grantaire's room and flicked off the light, plunging the pair into complete darkness. "Why do I love you?"

The next morning when the Amis came into Grantaire's room, they found Enjolras sleeping soundly in the chair next to his bed, their fingers still entwined.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise Grantaire is going home in the next chapter! This is not becoming a hospital fic! xD  
> There will be justice for Montparnasse, I swear on my life there will be justice!
> 
> #I haven't properly edited this so this warning will be removed once I have dinner and finally get around to reading through this


	6. Of Air Conditioners and Easy Mac

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I have a few valid reasons as to why this took so long.  
> -Being a Counselor at a Music Camp does not allow for alot of time to write gay fanfiction *shrugs*  
> -My internet connection is slower that a dead snail  
> -Seeing Les Mis onstage sort of left me emotionally drained, especially meeting Jason Forbach and Joseph Speildner.  
> -Arrested Development
> 
> Also, It came to my attention that a friend of mine reads this...so hey royalpear. Are you enjoying the shit I put up on the internet? How's New York? Lots of e/R feels? War flashbacks? I hear the internet connection sucks there. If he comments we'll know its him because he will inform us which fictional character is a power bottom. He knows what I'm talking about. *winks*

"The fuck?"

Enjolras was roused by the rustling of Grantaire's sheets and the other boy's sleep-filled voice. Their fingers were still entangled, when the blonde lifted his head. "Grantaire!" He gasped, sitting up in his seat and reaching out to push a dark curl behind the other boy's ear. "Oh my god, you're okay!" It wasn't quite morning and Grantaire had been asleep for two nights. The nurses said he would wake up soon, but Enjolras had barely left his side the entire time, much to the confusion of his friends. Except Combeferre and Musichetta, who had given him knowing smiles, but said nothing.

"I guess so." Grantaire shrugged, and looked around the atrociously blue room before scratching the back of his neck. "Do you mind telling me why I'm in a hospital? The last thing I remember is going outside at Courfeyrac's party." His blue eyes were settled on Enjolras's, filled with expectance and something else the blonde couldn't quite describe. Reverence? 

"You really don't remember anything past going out to Courf's deck?" Enjolras bit the inside of his lip, hoping that Grantaire wasn't serious. Hoping that the drugs hadn't wreaked havoc on his bondmate's mind as well as his body. 

Grantaire shrugged and opened and closed his mouth a few times, as if tasting something. "I think I might have thrown up because my mouth tastes like shit." He mumbled something unintelligible and then turned back to Enjolras, "Come on, there has got to be pretty great story behind this."

Enjolras fidgeted in his seat, playing with a string coming off of the blue sheets. "Someone drugged you. And you threw up and passed out." 

"I'm sorry, what?" Grantaire snorted, running a hand over his face. "Care to repeat that?"

"You threw up and passed out. We took you to the hospital, and there was rohypnol in your system. Someone drugged you, Grantaire!" The blonde explained, feeling the dark haired boy grip his hand tightly. Fear was written across Grantaire's face, shattering his previously calm and collected demeanor form moments before. He was chewing his bottom lip and sniffed quietly. "I was so scared." Enjolras added softly, placing his other hand on the other boy's knee.

Grantaire let out a chocked noise at the contact and gripped the sheet with his free hand. "Oh my god." He buried his face in the scratchy blue sheets, trying to muffle the tiny sobs that he was letting out.

"Grantaire!" Enjolras jumped up and placed his hand on the dark haired boy's shoulder. "Grantaire look at me!" The other boy lowered the sheet to reveal his eyes, now ringed with red and puffy with tears. "What happened?" Grantaire shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut, dark hair bouncing at the movement. "I'm right here, you can tell me."

"He-he tried to touch me." Grantaire whispered, barley audible above the steady beeping of his heart rate monitor.

Enjolras froze, his entire world stopped turning and every thing ceased. All that was important was Grantaire. Not the Cause, not his friends, not what his parents thought. It was only Grantaire. "What?"

Grantaire grabbed Enjolras's hand again and swallowed slowly, "After you left he showed up and gave me a drink." He paused, breathing deeply before continuing. "And the he tried to touch me...." The blonde's hand clenched into a fist at his side, and he ground his teeth. Enjolras's heart was pounding and he could hear the blood rushing in his ears. " He probably spiked my drink. I'm sorry." Grantaire mumbled, his voice filled with sorrow and shame. 

"Why are you apologizing!?" Enjolras demanded angrily, gripping Grantaire's hand even tighter in his. "He tried to molest you, it's not your fault! It's never your fault!" The dark haired boy nodded slowly, unwilling to look at Enjolras he gazed intently at his fingers twisting in the pale blue fabric."

"Your friend with the glasses stopped him before he could..." He paused and gritted his teeth for a fraction of a second before continuing. "And they threw him and his friends out of the party."

It felt like a switch had been flicked and a light had been turned on. "Montparnasse." Enjolras growled, his vision seemed to tint red and every instinct he had was telling him to tear the other man apart for trying to touch his mate-no, Grantaire, not his mate, Grantaire. Finally things seemed to fit into place. The bespectacled boy had kicked Montparnasse and his goons out of the party shortly after Enjolras left Grantaire.

"So, after I left this guy came up to you, gave you a drink and tried to molest you, but Combeferre stopped him and kicked him out. Then you went outside and that’s all you remember?" Enjolras took a deep breath, trying not to jump to conclusions. When Grantaire nodded he continued, "This guy, did he have greasy black hair and a leather jacket?" He nodded again and Enjolras felt his stomach drop as Grantaire let out a silent sob.

"I'm here." The blonde whispered, trying to calm himself as he crawled up onto the hospital bed and settled himself next to the smaller boy. "I'm here." Grantaire shifted under the sheet to give him more space. "I've got you." Enjolras wrapped his arms around Grantaire's waist and held his body close to his. He could feel the other boy's rapid heartbeat contrasting to his steady one. "I'm here." Grantaire tucked his head under Enjolras's chin, his warm breath and stubble tickling the blonde's neck. "You're okay."

They fell asleep like that, entwined with words of comfort. In the back of Enjolras's mind a fire was beginning to burn and engulf him.

-ooo-

"Looks like you're all set to go home! We should have you out of here in a few minutes!" The nurse smiled brightly and scribbled something down on the chart on her clipboard she had clutched to her chest. "You're a very lucky man, Grantaire. You had quite a high dosage of rohypnol in your system. Honestly, I'm surprised you recovered so quickly."

Grantaire pulled on his socks from where he was seated on the edge of his bed. "Thanks." He mumbled as the young woman gave him another wide smile before walking out of the little blue room he had occupied for the last two days. He hated that room, the nurses, and the smell of the hospital. All of it overwhelmed him and made his skin crawl. Grantaire just wanted to leave, and it felt like his converse were adamant on keeping him there as long as possible with their hopelessly tangled laces.     

"Hey." Enjolras leaned on the doorframe, his arms folded over his chest, blonde hair looking slightly disheveled but still extremely soft and inviting behind his hard gaze. Neither of them had talked about sharing Grantaire's hospital bed, and it didn't seem like it was something they would talk about for a while. Grantaire had decided that Enjolras was the type of person who talked about what he was confident with, and ignored things he wasn't sure about. Anything outside his comfort zone he either avoided or floundered in an attempt to look confident. "You're getting discharged?"

Grantaire nodded, double knotting both of his shoes before standing and grabbing his hoodie off the back of the chair. "I'll need a lift home, if you wouldn't mind." He scratched the back of his neck and bit the inside of his lip for a moment. "I mean, I can probably walk too. It's not that far, really." The dark haired boy amended, waving his hand dismissively and beginning to walk out of the awful room.

His journey to the outside world was abruptly cut off by Enjolras grabbing his arm in a vice like grip. "I'm not letting you walk home. Not alone." His tone was deathly serious and his eyes bore holes in Grantaire.

"I'll be fine, Apollo!" He chuckled, placing his hand over the blonde's. "I know how to take care of myself, I have for the past ten years."

Grantaire tried to shove Enjolras's hand off of his arm, but his grip became tighter, not enough to leave a mark, but enough to let Grantaire know he wasn't going anywhere. "I'm not leaving you alone, not again."

Grantaire snorted and shook his head, "If you're referring to last night, I can assure you that I won't be accepting drinks from greasy strangers again."

"Grantaire, I'm talking about the last ten years." The blonde's eyebrows knitted together in worry and relaxed his grip. "I left you on your own for so long and I've already caused you enough pain, the least I can do is drive you home."

The dark haired boy was silent for a moment, relishing the press of his Apollo's fingers on his skin, before he nodded. "Okay, just this once." Enjolras opened his mouth to say something, but Grantaire silenced him with a pointed look. "And not because you pity me and I'm some sort of fucked up sad sack taking rides from attractive dudes, but because it's hot as balls out there and I assume your car has air conditioning."

The blonde was silent for a moment before putting his hands in his pockets and sighing, "Alright. Come on." He ducked his head and meandered down the hallway, past some nurses and a gurney. Grantaire set his jaw and followed a few paces behind, forcing a smile when the nurse from earlier waved at him.

After a few minutes of navigating the winding halls Grantaire decided that the hospital was not infact a hospital, but instead a glorified maze of hallways and sick people. Fantastic.

"Okay." Enjolras pulled out his car keys when they finally exited the hospital. "I'm parked over there." He pointed to the end of the lot, the sun encircling the blonde, giving him a halo of mid-afternoon sunlight.

Grantaire stared in awe at the angel next to him, and almost had to pinch himself to snap from his revere when said angel began walking towards his car. "Shotgun!" He yelled, rushing after Enjolras, converse smacking against the blacktop.

Enjolras rolled his eyes and unlocked the small red car, slipping into the drivers seat. Grantaire dropped into the passenger’s seat a moment later, tossing his hoodie into the back seat. "Ooh, sweet jesus." He groaned, flicking on the AC instantly when the blonde turned the ignition. "I knew this was a good idea." The AC was on full blast as the odd pair pulled out of the parking lot, and onto the freeway.

"So, where to?" Enjolras asked offhandedly, refusing to look at the other boy.

Grantaire shrugged, running a hand through his hair, "West end of town. About three miles north of the cafe." 

-ooo-

Enjolras gritted his teeth, trying to focus on the road in front of him, instead of the boy occupying the passenger’s seat. Grantaire was stretched out on the seat, hair plastered to his forehead with sweat. With the AC blasting on him, the collar of his shirt was flapping a bit, revealing his pale collarbone and long neck. It was taking every ounce of self-control not to pull the car over and kiss Grantaire like he was air and Enjolras was a drowning man. Every instinct was telling him to tangle his fingers in those dark curls and tug.

"So, where to?" He asked, looking pointedly at the road as it rushed past the little car.

Grantaire shrugged, "West end of town. About three miles north of the cafe." In his peripheral vision Enjolras saw the other boy run a hand through his hair, the simple act making his stomach twist in that familiar feeling he got whenever Grantaire was near.

"Okay." He managed to mumble, trying not to dwell on the image of Grantaire's fingers tangled in his impossibly dark hair. He hated those thoughts, the ones that kept him up at night, and kept him from focusing. He loved that there was a small possibility they could become real, but hated that the idea of them being real terrified him. having a relationship with Grantaire would mean commitment, and reliability. Two things he was not the best at when it came to people. And the worst part was that when he had finally acted on those urges, when he had kissed Grantaire, the object of affection had no idea. The knowledge that Grantaire didn't remember the kiss made Enjolras want to put his fist through the nearest wall, and he wasn't completely sure why.

They drove in silence for a while before Grantaire spoke up, "So, this is me!" He pushed himself up in his seat as they approached a stand of the shittiest apartments Enjolras had ever seen. They were clumped together like trees in a forest, and rose four stories into the sky, grazing the clouds above. Each was painted a bland grey that was almost the same colour as the pavement in front of the steps. 

Enjolras pulled the car over in front of an alleyway that separated two of the buildings, and turned off the engine. Grantaire hopped out and rubbed the back of his neck. "So... I can make lunch if you want." His impossibly blue eyes flicked around nervously as he jammed his thumb towards the front door. "I mean, if you're not doing anything. I just wanted to thank you for like, giving me a ride home and taking me to the hospital and...stuff."

"Of course!" Enjolras nearly clapped a hand over his mouth when the response jumped from his lips. He hadn't meant to seem so eager but the words has sprung out the moment Grantaire invited him inside. "I mean, I'm not busy."

The dark haired boy looked confused for a moment before he shrugged and dug his hand into his pocket. "Shit!" Grantaire hit his palm against his forehead and groaned. "I left my keys in the apartment and now I'm locked out." He mumbled something to himself and turned to look down the tiny alley.

"Grantaire?" Enjolras asked when the other boy jogged down the narrow path and looked up at the fire escape. Grantaire waved a dismissive hand in his direction and climbed onto the dumpster. In a single fluid movement he launched himself from the lid of the can and gripped the edge of the ancient fire escape. "Grantaire!" He yelled, racing down the alley in an attempt to catch the smaller boy when he fell.

However, Grantaire just hoisted himself onto the rusty landing and smiled down at the blonde below him. "Enjolras." He deadpanned with a business like expression, save for the glint of amusement in his eyes. "Are you coming or what?" He extended his hand towards Enjolras with a smirk.

Enjolras was screaming inside as he gripped the dark haired boy's hand and was hoisted onto the metal platform in a matter of seconds. When he was standing next to Grantaire, Enjolras gripped the other boy's shoulder in an attempt regain his balance. "Come on then." Grantaire chuckled and began to climb the creaky old fire escape that seemed like it might fall down at any moment.

The blonde gritted his teeth and followed the other boy up the metal stairs. He kept trying to look anywhere but the ground, not wanting to know how high they were. However, this didn't help much because the only other place he could look was directly at Grantaire's ass as he climbed the fire escape. Swallowing, Enjolras tried to suppress the jolts of arousal that tingled in his lower abdomen whenever Grantaire continued to climb. Nope. Nope. Nope. He thought to himself, trying to ground his thoughts.

After awhile they reached the top flight of the fire escape. Grantaire had his arms folded over his chest and was glaring at the closed window in front of them. "What's wrong?" Enjolras asked, confused at to why the other boy looked so annoyed.

"I closed the window." He muttered, tugging at the bottom of his shirt. "And now it's raining! Perfect!" A few stray drops of rain pattered soft on the rusted metal beneath their feet. "We're locked out and now it's raining! Fucking wonderful!" Grantaire punched the brick wall in anger as the rain became less of a light drop or two and turned into more of a drizzle. "I'm sorry. You can just go home or something."

Enjolras watched as Grantaire slumped down against the brick wall and curled his legs closer to himself. "You can come hang out in my car until the locksmith comes." He offered, placing a hand the other boy's shoulder. "I mean...if you're not doing anything." Enjolras smiled and extended a hand.

"Mocking me with my own words? Isn't thank kind of low for you, Apollo?" He mumbled taking Enjolras's hand. "I was going to make Easy Mac. It's a damn shame really." He shrugged, pulling himself to his feet. "The only way we're getting in there is if we break the window."

"I have absolutely no idea what Easy Mac is." Enjolras jumped at the contact, feeling his heartbeat increase the Grantaire's comparison of him to a Greek god. "Lets get you inside Hyacinth."

"Fuck your car." Grantaire smirked from underneath the mop of black curls in his eyes. With one hand he wrapped his sweatshirt around a fist and slammed the fabric wrapped fist against the window. The thin glass shattered with a sound similar to wind chimes as it rained down onto the metal platform they stood on. Each shard of glass reflected the few rays of sunlight that came through the clouds, creating a multitude of small twinkling lights around their feet

Enjolras jumped and pulled Grantaire away from the shards of glass. But, in pulling him from the window, Enjolras had succeeded in gripping the smaller boy to his chest. "What do you think you're doing!" He shouted shaking Grantaire's shoulders violently. "You could have sliced your arm up you idiot! Do you have a death wish or something!?"

Grantaire smirked and looked down at where Enjolras was gripping his arms, "You said you'd never had Easy Mac." He pushed the blonde boy off of him and turned back to the shattered windowpane that was now a gaping hole into his apartment.

"I hardly see how my eating habits resulted in you smashing a window!" The blonde demanded, feeling the need to protect Grantaire threatening to overflow. He need to make sure no one hurt this boy, make sure this boy was never in pain or danger. The thought of Grantaire hurting himself was almost too much to bear. He hated thinking about all those years Grantaire had spent thinking he hated him and cringed. He would do better. He had to do better, for Grantaire.

Grantaire shook his head and laughed, "I'm making you Easy Mac." He gripped Enjolras's wrist and guided him towards the new entrance to his apartment.

Enjolras let out an indignant huff and pulled his arm away from the other boy. "Did you really just break into your own apartment to make me some sort of processed macaroni product!?" Grantaire shrugged and blinked expectantly as the blonde tugged at his hair. "I swear! You're the strangest person I have ever met! You're bordering on insane and confuse me to no end! Grantaire, you are the most infuriating person I have ever met because no matter how hard I try, I can't figure you out! You and your stupid face and hair and eyes and-"

Grantaire cut him off with a smirk, "Stop talking." He placed a hand on Enjolras's jaw and pulled his head down a bit so they were almost at eyelevel. The blonde made an attempt to move away from the dark haired boy, panic rising in his chest.  _Shit! Did I really just say that!?_

"Just...hold still." Grantaire moved forward and pressed their lips together, fisting his other hand into Enjolras's blonde curls. The kiss was soft and tender, filled with the words neither was able to say.  _I need you. I need you too. Don't leave me. I'm here. I'm sorry. I forgive you._  

The blonde gasped in surprise for a second and the other boy's tongue slipped past the seam of his lips. It wasn't anything like the kiss on the porch, which had been impulsive and quick. This was desperate and needy. Enjolras kissed like he was a drowning man, and Grantaire was air, unable to break away. He had cradled the dark haired boy's body closer to his own and he could feel Grantaire's pulse beating rapidly beneath his fingers.

The previously intolerable heat of the early summer heat had dissipated in the rain, making the two press closer in an attempt to stay warm. A breeze blew through the small alley, Grantaire shivered imperceptibly as he broke away from the kiss. "So what were you saying about my stupid face?" A grin stretched across his features.

Enjolras huffed out a laugh as they stood, foreheads pressed together, brushing a finger over the line of stubble along Grantaire's jawline. The only sound other that their soft breaths was the pitter patter of raindrops on the fire escape that echoed through the tiny alley.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be gone next week, with no internet, so don't expect anything from me during that time. I leave Sunday. I hope to put out the next chapter before the end of the month! If everything runs smoothly it should be done in about two weeks! :D See you guys in two weeks!
> 
> Side Note-  
> I'm considering writing a sort of field note think about this universe with Dom/Sub bondmates, explaining how the bonds work and stuff. Would anyone be interested, or would I just be talking out of my ass?


	7. Strangers In The Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is to commemorate the last day of the Les Mis US 25th Anniversary Tour. I saw them at the beginning of the summer and it changed my life. I don't think I've ever been happier. It's always been my dream to be in a big production like a national tour or Broadway. I love Jason Forbach and Joseph Spieldenner as Enjolras and Grantaire, I think they're possibly the best. Also they're totally adorable together and were really cool about it when I walked into Joe's chest by accident...more on that if anyone's interested. Basically, I am so glad to have seen the tour and hope to be part of a new one some day!  
> Late reasons (is this a thing now???)  
> -Birthday One Day More flashmob, I have the best friends  
> -Work  
> -Jason being cute with Joseph  
> -Night Vale, fuck what have I gotten myself into  
> -Hannibal all the Hannigraham feels  
> -Ummm  
> Oh, I have a tumblr set up now! grantairescrotch.tumblr.com come say hi! I update regularly over there, so if you want to talk to me probably try there!  
> Enjoy the chapter!  
> *sobbing over the tour* We'll miss you guys!

"The easy Mac awaits, Apollo." Grantaire smirked and nodded towards the shattered window, his eyes glinting brilliant blue. His lips were red and wet, slightly parted as he turned and ungracefully climbed through the window. Enjolras blinked, still trying to process what had just happed in the last few seconds. It felt like his brain was a broken record simply repeating  _That just happened. That just happened. Did that just happen? Yeah, that just happened._  Clearly Grantaire had drugged him or something in some odd twist of fate, because there was no way he could feel this amazing with some form of chemical assistance.

It still hadn't fully processed that Grantaire wanted him in the same way. That maybe the odd desires and impulses Enjolras was experiencing weren't so odd or unprovoked. Maybe it wasn't so odd to want to hold the dark haired boy close to him and never let him out of his sight, never let him leave. The idea of not having Grantaire beside him was unthinkable now that he knew it was a possibility to have him. How he had survived the last twenty-three years without his other half was still a mystery now that they were united. The soft patter of the rain outside bounced around the blonde's skull as he tried to comprehend a world without Grantaire.

Enjolras stiffly climbed through the window and found himself sitting on the counter of Grantaire's miniscule kitchen. The dark haired boy was bent down between his legs, rummaging around in the minifridge. "There you are, you little bastard." Enjolras barley heard the words over the sound of his heart beating frantically in his chest. The blonde froze when Grantaire straightened up slightly, so his eyes were aligned with his crotch. "Oh...hey." He let out a strangled laugh and stood completely still, impossibly blue eyes locked directly ahead of him, which happened to be on Enjolras's crotch.

The blonde let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. Seeing Grantaire on his knees in front of Enjolras felt right, somehow like that’s where he was supposed to be. The thought disgusted the taller boy because it went against everything he believed. The idea that Grantaire was lower than him and should debase himself in such a position of servitude would have appalled the blonde a few weeks ago, but now it was something that he hungered for and wanted but the fear of his own desires still lingered.

With a shaky hand Enjolras placed a hand on Grantaire's head and wove his fingers into the thick dark locks that cascaded over his pale features. The other boy let out a soft sigh and leaned forward until his forehead was resting against the inside of his right leg. Grantaire's hair was still damp beneath his fingers and was matted down against his forehead, a stark contrast to his pale skin. Slipping one hand down, Enjolras settled his grip on the back of his neck and guided the other boy to his feet. "Can I kiss you again?" Grantaire whispered, looking into the blonde's eyes.  As their lips met Grantaire tangled his fingers in blonde curls and let out quiet pleading noises in the back of his throat. Enjolras spread his legs enough so that he could pull the smaller boy flush against him, their damp chests pressed against each other. Their tongues danced as small noises of pleasure and want escaped them, echoing around the small kitchen, mixing with the patter of rain outside the shattered window. The dark haired boy wound an arm around Enjolras's waist and entangles their fingers before pulling back with a lopsided grin. "Don't think this gets you out of Easy Mac." He warned with a chuckle as Enjolras rolled his eyes and pressed a kiss to Grantaire's neck.

"Wouldn't dream of it." The blonde murmured, feeling his cheeks heat. The dark haired boy studied the side of the Easy Mac package before adding some water from the sink to both and placing them in the microwave in the corner of the kitchen. "I, um- I can pay for the window." Enjolras managed, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand. The windowsill was dam with rain, and a few stray bits of glass decorated the counter, bouncing light around the blonde, giving him an ethereal quality.

Grantaire turned around to face him, hair wild and still plastered to his neck but mostly dry. "It's fine, at least it matches the other one now." He pulled off his hoodie and tossed it over one shoulder, "You're soaking wet, I can lend you some clothes." The dark haired boy nodded towards the living room and extended a hand, which Enjolras took and hopped down from the counter.

-ooo-

They wandered through the tiny apartment, floorboards squeaking beneath their feet, until they reached Grantaire's room. Grantaire was painfully aware of how it looked; small, with a mattress on the floor and a closet on one wall. But by far, the most striking feature was the number of empty bottles and cans strewn about. He felt shame creeping up on him and his hand clenched nervously when the blonde noticed the evident drinking problem that decorated his bedroom. Enjolras placed a hand on his shoulder and gave him an understanding glance.

It was clear that the taller boy didn't understand the extent to which Grantaire drank and basically took his self loathing out through drink and cutting. He'd stopped cutting after they'd met because he knew there was someone on the other end of the bond, and the idea of marring Enjolras's perfect skin with more scars was unbearable. Even the depth to which he detested himself could not bring the drunk to knowingly hurt his Apollo.

He still couldn't conceive that Enjolras was his bondmate, not some lowlife hanging around a bar of whorehouse. How had he gotten so lucky to be connected so intimately with such an angelic being was beyond him. In Grantaire's eyes, Enjolras was a god, a king amongst men, and he was a mere mortal who wished to serve such a deity in any way he could. However, it also scarred him how devoted he felt to the other man. The idea that he would give his last breath to Enjolras was beyond a doubt in his mind. He was head over heels in love with Enjolras, and it terrified him. 

"So, um-my stuff might be kinda' big on you...sorry." Grantaire explained, walking towards the closet, without bothering to turn on the light, and digging through the row of shirts. Ignoring the shirts with embarrassing slogans like the one advertising Morning Wood Lumber Company he finally settled on one of the least offending. "This is the smallest one I've got." The dark haired boy retrieved a red t-shirt with the word PANTS simply written in all capital letters in white across the chest, and handed it to Enjolras. "What!?" He demanded crossing his arms across his chest when the blonde quirked an eyebrow at the shirt.

Enjolras shook his head, "Nothing, it's just...unique."

"Much like you." Grantaire replied with a flippant gesture, head still buried in the closet. He emerged a few moments later, another shirt in hand. "I'm just going to change right here, if that's okay with you." His eyes flickered with momentary panic that Enjolras would be offended by the idea of seeing him change. Having a Dom reject their Sub because of their body was not an unheard of occurrence.

It wasn't uncommon for Subs to change in front of their Doms because part of the traditional relationship was the acceptance of the Dom basically owning their Subs. Sometimes Subs weren't even allowed clothes within the home, however those environments were becoming rarer and rarer as society evolved. Subs still held lowed positions in government and in the workplace, they were often paid less because of their obviously more submissive behavior.  

"Oh, no! It's-it's fine." The blonde stammered, as Grantaire yanked his shirt over his head in one swift motion. Light filtered through the window and cast shadows along the dark haired boy's chest. Swallowing quickly, the blonde pulled off his own shirt, only to replace it with the dry one a moment later. The PANTS shirt was slightly baggy but not excessively so, and it made Grantaire chuckle to see Enjolras look so much like a child in large clothing.

Grantaire was wearing a baggy grey shirt that brushed the tops of his knees, displaying the slogan  _m_ _ake awkward sexual advances, not war_. The blonde snickered and smiled. "You're ridiculous." The blush that crept up on Enjolras's cheeks clashed with the firm line he pressed his lips into made something twist in the shorter boy's stomach and made his heart leap. 

"Don't act like you don't like it." The dark haired boy smirked and walked back out of the room, towards the kitchen. "Dinner's ready, Apollo!" The microwave beeped, reminding them that there was infact still food in there that needed to be eaten. "Fuck!" He announced with a yelp, burning his hand on the plastic of the Easy Mac containers. "Mother fucker, that's hot as balls!" Grantaire swore and sucked on two of his fingers while extracting the food with an oven mitted-hand.

Glancing over he spotted Enjolras busing himself with inspecting the record collection in the living room. "You've got quite the collection here. I didn't have you pegged for the record type though." He reached out running his fingers along the edge of each paper sleeve.

The dark haired boy emerged from the kitchen, small plastic cups in hand, and sat down on the threadbare couch with a shrug. "What can I say, I'm sort of a Luddite, clinging to the old ways and all that shit." The blonde let out an approving noise, pulling out a record to read the song list before returning it to its place, only to resume his previous activity.

"Don't make me go all motherly on you, your food's getting cold." Grantaire scolded from his seat, already shoveling Easy Mac into his mouth, reveling in the familiar taste of the cheap dinner. Enjolras sighed and flopped down onto the couch next to the dark haired boy who passed the second cup of the suspicious substance to him. Grantaire huffed out a laugh and gestured to the food, "It won't bite, I promise." He stuck his fork in the blonde's cup and popped a few pieces of macaroni into his mouth with a smile. "See?"

-ooo-

"If you say so..." Enjolras murmured, tentatively taking a bite of the obnoxiously yellow noodles. It tasted nothing like he was expecting, instead a simple sort of flavor that the blonde could only describe as happy mixed with fake cheese. "Hmm. It's good." Grantaire flashed a toothy, lopsided smile. 

They ate in silence for a while before Enjolras spoke up again. "Why is mine so bright yellow, and yours is almost orange?"

The dark haired boy ducked his head and put his fork down, "I put ketchup on mine." The blonde shot him a confused look out of the corner of his eye. "Don't look at me like that!"

"I'm not giving you a look!" Enjolras shook his head and took another bite, enjoying the frustration visible on the dark haired boy's face as he folded his arms across his chest.

Grantaire groaned, "Yes you are! That's a look!" He pointed towards the blonde's mouth that was twisted into a grin. "That's a look! And you're giving it to me! Stop that! You may not like it, but ketchup on Easy Mac is amazing.  It's weird but super good!" 

"Much like you." Enjolras replied, offhandedly while pointing to him with his fork.

"Touché." Grantaire shrugged, taking another large bite. "I swear, we're like a married couple." 

The blonde nearly choked on his Easy Mac, "What?" As much as the idea of spending a lifetime with Grantaire appealed to Enjolras, he knew it wasn't possible as long as his parents were still involved in his life to the extent that they were. They hated gays with a passion and were big supporters of 'traditional marriages' and kept trying to set him up with wealthy young women. Enjolras had know at a young age that he wasn't interested in women, but it wasn't until his last few years of High School that it crossed him mind that he might be gay, a theory that Grantaire confirmed beyond a doubt.

"Nothing..." Grantaire mumbled into his and finished off his Easy Mac, leaning back on the couch with a sigh.

The blonde set his empty cup on the coffee table and walked back over to the bookshelf. "I assume you have a way to play these, right?" He wondered aloud, picking a record seemingly at random.

"Turntable's in the corner." 

With swift fingers, Enjolras removed the black disc from it's sleeve, and placed it in the turntable before flicking it on. Almost immediately a simple melody began to play through the speaker as the blonde strode back to the couch and extended his hand. "Care to dance?" His brain was screaming at him to stop, to not look like a lovesick puppy. But it just felt right, pulling Grantaire to his feet and snaking a hand around his waist and holding him close as the music washed over them. It was awkward at first because the shorter boy had clearly never danced before and kept switching between trying to lead and following the blonde. Eventually they fell into a simple swaying movement in time with the song that floated from the old turntable. 

Grantaire lifted his head as if to hear the music better before nodding slightly and smiling broadly. "This has always been my favorite song."

"I think I've heard it before. Sinatra, right?" He whispered, trying to place where he recognized the old song. It wasn't quite slow but also wasn't upbeat and swing-like as so many songs of the time were. The song was more of a simple story told through music, a ballad.

"Yeah. That’s surprising you know it, it was popular back in '66." A smirk tickled the blonde's collarbone, making him suck in a breath.

The larger boy could feel stubble brushing against his neck as they swayed slowly to the music. "Why is it your favorite?"

He could feel Grantaire sigh softly, "It gave me hope that I wouldn't always be alone." Enjolras tightened his grip on the smaller boy's waist and placed a kiss on his forehead as he continued, "It made me think that maybe I wouldn't always be alone." The blonde swallowed thickly and felt arms being draped over his shoulders. "Enjolras I-"

" _Lovers at first sight, in love forever. It turned out so right, for strangers in the night_ ," Enjolras sang softly, feeling dark hair tickling his nose as Grantaire looked up at him.

"Don't go getting all sappy me." He murmured, pressing his face into crook of the blonde's neck, reaching up to brush a stray lock of hair out of Enjolras's eyes.

The taller boy captured his wrist and pressed their lips together for a fleeting moment, reveling in the vague taste of Easy Mac and ketchup on Grantaire's lips, deciding that he did like to odd combination. "Don't act like you don't like it." Enjolras felt Grantaire's stubble scratch against him jaw as he grinned at the reference to his earlier statement. Their fingers wound together, they were happy. In the background the song slowly faded into the next, they didn't notice as the pair swayed in the tiny living room. The lights of the city cast a long shadow of the two boys against the back wall as their lips met again, two shadows becoming one against the faded apartment wall. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise next chapter won't be all fluff, I love hurting our boys too much for that! Ahahahah! But sidenote, when this monster of a fic finally ends it will be happy, I promise!


	8. Breathe My Name Like A National Anthem

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I don't have much to say other than classes are starting up for me soon and updates will probably be more regular because my life will have some form of a schedule. Umm...no real excuses, I got it two out in a month so I'm quite proud of myself! The pocket guide is on it's way, probably mid September. Gosh, this fic is no where near done. The plot moves forward in the next chapter. Enjoy! :D

When Enjolras woke up he could feel the steady rise and fall of Grantaire's breathing against his chest. With a small smile he inhaled the faint smell of rain that still clung to the dark mass of curls beneath his chin. Their legs were tangled together beneath the light sheet on Grantaire's mattress. The window they were facing was letting in a pool of light that enwreathed the pair in a dazzling golden aura against the stained bedding.

Grantaire looked peaceful in sleep. From where Enjolras was cradling the dark haired boy's back to his own chest, he could barley make out a soft smile painted across his features. A few stray that locks of hair fell over his closed eyes, as well as the dark lines of stubble decorating his jaw, stood out against the small bend in his nose, probably the result of a break. He was beautiful like that, dark curls splayed across the pillow like a halo.

An early summer breeze blew through the cracks in the window, ruffling the sheet and their hair. Grantaire let out a quiet noise of annoyance and pressed closer to Enjolras's chest. The blonde chuckled and ran his fingers through the smaller boy's raven curls, "R, it's time to get up."

"Mmph." He shook his head and groaned, as birds chirped softly outside. "It's too early to get up."

The blonde snorted, feeling something swell in his chest, "The sun is already half way across the sky, and you're still in bed. It's time to get up."

"You're the sun." Grantaire mumbled, lacing their fingers together before turning enough to press their lips together for a fleeting moment. "And you're not out of bed, therefore I get five more minutes." He smirked, blue eyes shining despite being clouded by sleep.

Enjolras placed a chaste kiss on his forehead, "Fine, five minutes." In a few fluid movements, the blonde disentangled their limbs and padded into the kitchen. With a sigh he started to make coffee, trying to ignore the growing number of bottles he saw the longer he looked around the tiny room. Nearly every surface was home to at least three bottles or cans of varying size and color. The early afternoon sunlight lit up the row of green absinthe bottles near the windowsill they had climbed through the night before. A few shards of glass were scattered along the counter top, and Enjolras deftly swept them into the trash with his hand.

The mounting worry in the back of his mind grew when the blonde opened the cupboards in search of two mugs, and was instead greeted by an impressive collection of cheap booze mixed with heavy liquors hidden behind some plates and cups. From an early age Enjolras had known that his bondmate had serious self-harm and alcohol problems, but it had never occurred to him that it meant that Grantaire was actually the one who had caused all of his scars and hospital trips. Never had it crossed his mind that Grantaire was suffering more than he was even after they had met.

"Who died?" Grantaire stumbled into the tiny kitchen, rubbing his eyes with one hand, pulling Enjolras back from his thoughts. "You look like you just ate an entire lemon. Who stuck a stick up your butt?" He snaked an arm around the blonde's waist and tilted his chin down so they were almost nose-to-nose.

With a frown Enjolras, placed his hand on the shorter boy's shoulder and turned back to the cabinet. "Grantaire, we need to talk."

"Oh not talking." The dark haired boy whined, pressing his face into the blonde's neck. "We could always make out instead, you seemed to like that earlier." Grantaire murmured, his breath warm on Enjolras's neck as he spoke with a smirk. When the blonde frowned and shook his head the dark haired boy looked up, "Okay, what's wrong?"

Enjolras fidgeted, rubbing Grantaire's shoulder with his thumb absentmindedly, "I'm just worried about you and all of this." He gestured to the bottles of drink lining the counter and filing the cabinet. Familiar blue eyes flicked towards the bottles, and then down towards his feet. "I'm just worried about what it's doing to you." He murmured, cupping Grantaire's cheek and pressing their foreheads together, "And I care about you."

"I'm fine." The smaller boy jerked his shoulder from Enjolras's grip, "It's nothing I can't handle. It's not a big deal." His words were clipped and carried a sense of finality to them as he shuffled his bare feet against the cool linoleum floor.

"Grantaire," The blonde frowned and folded his arms across his chest and watched as Grantaire poured himself a cup of coffee. "You gave me alcohol poisoning, numerous times. That's not nothing. This is seriously worrying me, I've only just found you and I'm not about to loose you to booze."

The other boy turned on his heel and jabbed a finger towards Enjolras, sloshing some of his coffee in the process. "Don't you dare act like you're the one suffering here! I was completely alone since my parents died. I was that weird kid in the back of the class with no friends and no family that cared for him. I was the one who got his nose broken in the sixth grade when a bunch of doms thought it would be funny to grab me after class and beat me up in an alley because I had no bondmate to protect me. I was the kid who had to learn how to fight off doms with similar ideas. I was the kid who starting cutting himself and drinking to prove to myself that I was still alive. So don't act like you're the one who's hurt, because at least you believe in something. Hope was punched, slapped, and taunted out of me long before I started hurting you with drink and razors." As he spoke Enjolras saw tears beginning to form at the edges of Grantaire's eyes. Chewing his lip, Grantaire placed his coffee on the counter. With every word he felt his stomach twisting and his heart straining. "You weren't completely alone..."

"You aren't alone anymore." Enjolras wrapped the shaking boy in his arms, needing to protect him and show him he was safe. "I'm so sorry, Grantaire." A soft sob emanated from where Grantaire had buried his face in the crook of the blonde's neck. His hand fisted into the back of the dark haired boy's shirt, the other tangled in his curls.

Enjolras wasn't sure how long they stayed like that, wrapped in eachother's arms in the small kitchen, listening to birds sing outside the window. 

-ooo-

They don't kiss enough is the new problem, Enjolras decided a month and a half into whatever this is. Whenever Enjolras had a free day he found himself at Grantaire's shit hole of an apartment. Somehow it was much more natural than he ever would have expected, wrapping Grantaire in a hug and telling him how much he cared for him took no effort at all. Being able to reach across the couch and entwine their fingers while he typed essays was soothing in a way he never though he would crave as much as he does. 

"You've got that look again." Grantaire offhandedly remarks while watching some movie Enjolras's has never hear of on Netflix, popping some chips into his mouth.

The blonde pursed his lips and looks up from his laptop, "What look?"

The dark haired boy shrugged, "That look that says something isn't quite right and you're about to rant about it." He said it in such a casual manner that Enjolras found slightly annoying, but chose to ignore. True, it's infuriating that the state government had decided to reject the bill supporting pay raises for Submissives.

"Well, I'm still confused as to why you are so cynical when it comes to Sub rights. We've come so far from Subs staying home and raising children in just a few decades, so I don't understand why you think pay raises are so insane." He waved his hand towards the kitchen as he spoke, "It's not such a difficult concept as some people seem to believe. The only difference between Dominants and Submissives is sexual, and therefore shouldn't extend beyond the metaphorical bedroom."

Grantaire let out a noise halfway between a laugh and a snort, "The entire world runs on a simple triangular axis; money, power, and sex. Doms tend to have more power because of their dominant nature, making them more apt to sexual encounters. Once you've got two of the vertices you are bound to achieve the third. Our whole society depends on the abasement of half the population so the other half will be more likely to succeed. People figure that if a Sub has a Dom they'll be well taken cared for, even if their paychecks aren't anywhere near each other. Sure it makes me angry, but it also isn't something I can change."

"That's the attitude that is holding you back from achieving equality! The only difference between you and me is basic sexual instinct, which has created a societal norm. Societies change all the time, you just have to be willing to push when you need to." Enjolras shot back closing his laptop and turning to face Grantaire who had abandoned his bag of BBQ chips during his earlier statement.

The dark haired boy shook his head and gazed up at the blonde with a smirk, "There's a flaw in your logic, societies rise and fall all the time. The Roman Empire was glorious at its peak, but like all seemingly perfect things it had it's flaws and eventually fell because even though people tried to change it was futile. Napoleon fell because he overestimated his forces and stupidly invaded Russia in winter and then fucked up royally at Waterloo. Assuming that your society is higher or better than another is just pointless. We're all just insignificant specks floating in to void, fighting for a better seat to the apocalypse. When we finally get burned up by the sun expanding all of this will have been for nothing, and even if my paycheck is the same of yours it won't make an ounce of difference."

 "While the death of humanity is inevitable that doesn't mean we should just give up on improving the current state of affairs for those living now! Even though we will get enveloped by the sun eventually, that doesn't matter." Enjolras reached out and placed his hand on top of Grantaire's clenched fist. "What matters is what's right here, what's happening right now is what's going to make a difference for the next generation. We can change the world for those living now, and even when everything else turns to dirt we'll have made a difference, and isn't that worth something?"

The dark haired boy leaned forward and pressed his lips to the blonde's, gripping the back of his neck to bring them closer on the tiny couch. "I find your optimism sickening, but I can't resist you when you're all flushed with revolutionary fervor." He whispered, parting his lips and sliding his tongue past the seam of Enjolras's lips.

"Be serious." The blonde murmured, gripping Grantaire's waist and tugging until they were chest to chest. "I don't get you."

"I am wild." The dark haired boy chuckled, "That must really piss you off. I've got your naive optimism all figured out, and you can't even begin to make sense of me." Trailing kisses along the larger boy's jaw, he swung his leg over Enjolras's legs so he was seated in his lap.

Enjolras reached out carefully, running his fingers through the dark curls that hung in front of the other boy's bright eyes. Grantaire's breath hitched, but when Enjolras leaned forward, they met in the middle, hesitant at first. They stayed like that, lips pressed against each other, until Grantaire's fingers threaded into the blonde's hair in return, an urgent sound escaping his lips. Enjolras kissed him harder and this time, when the smaller boy gasped into it, he sucks on Grantaire's kiss swollen lower lip. He ran his tongue over it and Grantaire's moan of approval was all he needed as an invitation to capture the dark haired boy's lips in a bruising kiss, licking into his mouth.

He tasted of cheap booze and toothpaste, but Enjolras didn't care, because he tasted it on Grantaire's tongue, and the little whimpering noises the smaller boy was making were comparable to a symphony, in Enjolras's opinion. They kissed until they were gasping into each other's mouths, until their fingers were tugging on each other's hair and the blonde was desperately trying not to moan when Grantaire began to grind his hips downward, "Fuck, you cynical bastard." He slipped a hand under the hem of the dark blue sweatshirt that hung loosely around his frame. "It's fucking 85 degrees, why are you wearing a sweatshirt?" Enjolras wondered aloud, spreading his fingers out against the warm stretch of skin beneath said sweatshirt.

The dark haired boy chuckled and mouthed at the blonde's neck, "Because we're watching Animal House, and the sweatshirt is from Animal House." Grantaire smirked and placed a hand on the growing bulge in the front of Enjolras's pants. "I trust you're enjoying yourself?" He accented the question by placing both hands on the taller boy's shoulders and grinding down with even more pressure, drawing a contented moan from the blonde's lips.

Enjolras could see the edges of his vision beginning to blur at the increased friction, his head falling backwards. Grantaire was moving above him in a steady rhythm, panting softly against his neck. He could feel the perpetual stubble on his jaw scratching against his skin, but couldn't find it in himself to actually care. "Taire..." The taller boy moaned at a particularly rough thrust that made his stomach clench.

"Did you just tell me to shut up in French?" Grantaire laughed, swooping down to swallow the noise Enjolras made when the dark haired boy slipped his hand beneath the waistband of his jeans and cupped the blonde through his boxer-briefs. The blonde could feel the smaller boy smirking as their tongues danced.

Placing one hand on the other's thigh, Enjolras slipped the other into his pants to stroke the dark haired boy. "Asshole." Enjolras gasped out as he felt Grantaire's fingers sneak past the front of his underwear, fleetingly brushing the head of his cock. "Grantaire!" He moaned as an unexpected orgasm ripped through his body, painting the cynic's fingers and the inside of his pants alabaster white.

"Enj." The words were panted against his neck as he felt Grantaire shudder above him and warmth coated his fingers. With a loud moan the dark haired boy collapsed onto his chest, breathing heavily as he extracted his hand from inside Enjolras's pants. A familiar smirk stretched over his lips as he slipped  a finger into his mouth and removed it free of the blonde's release, before wiping the rest onto the dark sweatshirt that had been rucked up to just below his armpits.       

-ooo-

Grantaire awkwardly pulled at his sweatshirt until he was free of the offending fabric, and balled it up, tossing it towards the bedroom door. "You came like a teenager." He pressed his face into the crook of Enjolras's neck, inhaling the scent of sweat and the faint tang of oranges mixed with a comforting dark musk that was pure Enjolras.

"Like you were much better." The blonde wiped his hand on the ratty old couch before weaving his fingers into dark curls and softly massaging his scalp. The shorter boy let out a soft hum of approval and nuzzled closer into the pale red t-shirt Enjolras was wearing. He felt a kiss being pressed to his forehead and sighed contentedly. 

"Sap." Grantaire mumbled with a smile, feeling warmth blossoming his chest. 

There was a silence that followed, not one of uncertainty, but one of comfort. The ability to communicate while completely silent is a skill only fully mastered by a few individuals. To exist in another’s silence is only achieved by those in sync.

Enjolras, true to form, was the first to speak. "I still think your cynicism is pointless and is simply you choosing to be negative. You must know that not all humans are selfish and greedy, looking for every opportunity to hold you back."

"You're speaking from the position of Dominant privilege. Has anyone ever denied you a job because, and I quote, 'people might take advantage of your submissive nature'? I'm fairly certain shelving cans at the local grocery story wouldn't provide for many opportunities where someone would take advantage of me. What would they do, make me put the soup in the canned vegetables section? Dom Privilege." Grantaire replied sleepily, not moving from where he had burrowed into Enjolras's neck, his stubble scratching against the blonde's skin.

"That's bullshit, you're the worst Submissive in the world." The blonde teased, laughing softly into Grantaire's dark curls. "Topping like that was not something I was expecting you to do."

"Coming from the worst Dominant in the world, who let me top, instead of taking control the situation. What can I say, I'm a man of many talents." He chuckled back, playing with a stray golden lock that was tickling his nose. "But I think we compliment each other nicely, if I do say so myself."

"I'm inclined to agree...This is going to be gross is we fall asleep before cleaning up." Enjolras offered, gesturing to where their come had plastered their pants to their crotches. But he made no move to stand, instead only pulling Grantaire closer to his chest and closing his eyes.

The dark haired boy sighed and let his eyelids slide shut, "I agree this'll be really gross, but I don't care."

When they awoke a few hours later to the last struggling beams of sunlight dipping below the horizon, it was gross, but with Enjolras's lips pressed to his as they kissed sleepily, Grantaire had never felt happier.  

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I promise this isn't the extent of the smut...not yet >;D  
> Follow me on Tumblr for updates, and stuff like that! I answer questions and often take prompts! :D  
> grantairescrotch.tumblr.com


	17. Update wheeeee I suck

Please don't kill me!

I promised myself I would never do one of these updates thats not an actual chapter but eh, *shrugs*

Okayyyy rapid fire explination because I have to go in like 5 minutes so be warned, the spelling in this thing will be shit-

I have no real excuse for why this took over three months *cringe* to update. I have the next chapter 90% done, and I'm hoping to publish it on or shortly after new years. I really shouldn't have let it go this long, because hell, I have no idea if any of you care anymore. Pretty much, I got the worst writers block of my life and dropped off the face of the earth for a while. Getting back into Sherlock didn't help me at all. But hey, if you like Sherlock too look out because I'm starting a Johnlock fic which should be starting around the middle to end of January! 

So the new chapter has been close to being done for a while and all I'm going to say is that it's building to the next, where lots of things are going to happen. When I started this story this was the original idea that I built off of, and I think you guys are going to love it! Over all the next chapter has a really big question being asked and we get some background on our favorite poet! :D

 


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